


close your eyes and feel the crash

by Heroine (Evoxine)



Series: we were both meant for the flames [1]
Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Feelings, Getting Together, M/M, Soulmate-Identifying Marks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-12
Updated: 2018-02-12
Packaged: 2019-03-17 06:43:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 29,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13653588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Heroine
Summary: Danny's last mission as a member of the Delta Force is to rescue a Navy SEAL who had gone in way over his head. Their first meeting is nothing shy of a disaster – bodies lie in their wake and Steve doesn't remember ever being this beaten up.But it's also a catalyst for something great, and although it takes them a while to get there, they eventually do.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all!!
> 
> This is my very first fic for the H50 fandom and for McDanno, so please forgive me for anything... weird. :P
> 
> A few things to note before you start reading!  
> 1: Danny spent half his life in the Army – Special Forces and then Delta Force. Yes, he's an overachiever. BUT! He is only a Staff Sergeant because he does not want the responsibility of a rank higher than that, although he is more than capable.  
> 2: Because of his Army training, I have altered Danny's personality a little. He's not as brash or as evident with his feelings, because I believe that even Danny would've been changed by the military.  
> 3: I also chose to put a little more... emotion into writing Steve, just because I like viewing him like that.  
> 4: I have completely ignored some canon plotlines (e.g. Steve proposing to Cath, some parts related to Wo Fat, etc.), and have also shifted the timelines of some plotlines. Plotlines not present in this (e.g. the entire Matty plotline) will be included in future installments (if this is well-received I guess haha).  
> 5: I have done a lot of random research into various aspects of the fic (e.g. the distance between docks in that one swimming scene), but if anything is glaringly wrong, please let me know!

Every jolt of the truck sends pain spiralling up his nerves, where they settle almost reluctantly into the pit of his bones. They’ve been driving for hours now – the sun, high in the sky when he had been loaded into the truck, is now gradually falling off the edge of the horizon. The tarp covering the back of the truck flaps along to the rocking of the vehicle, and Steve watches blankly through the gaps as the wheels kick up gravel, as trees slide past, as any possibility of living another day slowly fades away with the light.

He’s not bound or shackled to anything. If he so desires, he’s more than able to rise to his feet and jump out of the truck. But there’s really no point. There’s another vehicle riding close behind, and jumping out serves only to hasten his death. Not to mention the fact that he has absolutely _no idea_ where the hell he is. So, Steve stays in the truck, slumped against cool metal as his injuries slowly catch up to him.

His eyelids are getting heavier by the minute. Sleep has become a foreign concept since the second his feet touched North Korean soil five days ago, and Steve figures he might as well allow himself to indulge in some shut-eye before sleep becomes forever unnecessary – like it now is for Jenna Kaye and Pat Jameson.

But before he can send himself off into nightmares of Jenna’s execution and the feeling of blunt blades attempting to split his skin apart like the Red Sea, the four-wheel drive driving behind him swerves sharply and barrels straight into a tree. Steve bolts upright, adrenaline coursing through his tired frame, and is promptly tossed around the back of the truck like a hacky sack as the vehicle loses control.

Everything comes to a sudden halt just a few seconds later, and Steve picks himself up off the floor with a wince. His bruised ribs have probably upgraded to fractured ribs by this point. Still somewhat disoriented, Steve finds himself rendered speechless when the tarp is flung back to reveal a man – armed to the teeth – staring right back at him.

“Steve McGarrett?”

Steve blinks.

“Commander?”

Steve nods.

“Target acquired,” the man says, mouth slightly angled towards his collar. “Requesting extraction.”

Steve is still staring when the man signals to someone else out of sight and hoists himself fluidly into the truck. “I’m SFC Daniel Williams. I’m here to bring you home, Commander.”

A strong hand reaches out to grasp Steve’s forearm, and Steve lets Williams pull him to his feet. He slings a sore arm around broad shoulders, and willingly relinquishes some of his weight onto the shorter man.

“Will you be able to walk?”

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, grimacing at how rough his voice sounds. His throat’s been burning dully over the past day or so, but water had seemed like a luxury back in his little cell. Williams reaches around for his pack, and hands Steve a bottle of water.

“Drink slow,” he says. Steve obeys.

“Thanks.”

“You can thank me later,” Williams says, “if and when we make it back home. Ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.”

 

 

 

  
They’ve been walking through the jungle for hours. The sky is pitch black, stars scarce across the expanse of night. Williams hasn’t let go of Steve, his presence providing support in more ways than one. For that, Steve is quite thankful.

“Eight clicks to the extraction point,” Williams murmurs. “Hang in there, Commander.”

“Sir, we have time for a short break.”

Williams spares a glance over his shoulder. “ETA on the helo?”

“0200, sir.”

A beat, then: “Alright. Fifteen minutes.”

Steve is brought over to a flat rock, and exhaustion hits him full force the second he gets to relax all the sore muscles in his body. Williams passes him another bottle of water and an MRE pack before going over to his team, and Steve fiddles with the cap as he watches them discuss details of the op.

It’s a small team of six. They’re all decked out in camo wear, MP5s slung across their fronts and handguns holstered around both thighs. Steve’s pretty sure they have multiple blades tucked away as well. Maybe even retractable ones hidden in the heels of their boots – you know, like the ones you see in spy movies.

“Hey, Williams,” he says quietly. Several pairs of eyes snap to his face. Williams heads over, eyes somehow still visibly bright in the darkness.

“So,” Steve continues once he’s closer. “Who exactly are you guys again?”

Williams pauses for a beat before he answers. “Delta Force.”

It takes a moment for that tidbit of information to settle into Steve’s addled brain.

“I’m sorry, did you say Delta Force?”

The edge of William’s mouth quirks. “Yes, Commander. Your disappearance has put some people in quite a panic. Your team contacted the governor, who in turn contacted a bunch of your SEAL superiors, who in turn contacted my superiors. The six of us are the only ones available on such short notice. And here we are.”

“Here we are,” Steve echoes.

Williams surveys him.

“Eat something, Commander. You’ll need your energy.”

“Steve.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Call me Steve. You’re saving my life; we could do without the formalities.”

Williams chuckles. “Right. Steve it is. Call me Danny.”

 

 

 

  
They’re three clicks from the extraction point when everything goes to shit. Johnson, one of the Special Forces recruits, is the first one to fall. A bullet pierces through his left lung, and he asphyxiates on his own blood, panic speeding up the process.

Danny yanks Steve along with him, their backs slamming against a tree trunk as they try to figure out what the fuck is going on.

“Sniper,” Fontana mutters into their earpieces. “Southeast, I’m guessing. No vision whatsoever.”

“We’re gonna have to move fast. Keep your eyes out for cover.”

Despite all their training, the rest of the team gets picked off one by one. They fan out, trying to pull the extent of the sniper’s — so far, it seems like there’s only one — attention to its limits. Steve tries his best not to hinder Danny’s movements or speed, gritting his teeth in defiance as his aches turn into pains and as his pains turn into agony.

They make it to within a kilometre of the extraction point when Danny gently informs Steve that four of his team have fallen.

“Flores and I will do our best to get you to the helo,” Danny says, “but I’m gonna need you to walk without support. Can you do that?”

Wordlessly, Steve lifts his arm off of Danny’s shoulders. He steels his shoulders, gives Danny an unreadable look, and gestures to their destination with a tilt of his head.

“Aye, Commander.” Danny grins briefly and unholsters one of his weapons. “Take this. And these.” He hands over three mags. “Put those pockets of your cargo pants to good use, eh?”

Steve slips the spare ammo into a pocket and tightens his fingers around the grip. It’s somewhat calming to have a weapon back in his hands, and Steve takes a few tentative steps forward to test his footing and the strength of his injured leg.

“Okay?”

“No,” Steve admits, “but nothing about this is okay, is it?”

“You got me there,” Danny agrees, rolling a shoulder and lifting his MP5. “Now come on, big guy. We’ve got somewhere to be.”

 

 

 

  
Thanks largely to a thickening of the tree canopies along with Danny and Flores taking turns keeping an eye on the general area of the sniper (read: watching through binoculars for a glimpse of moonlight reflecting off a scope’s lens) the three of them manage to get to the helo with minutes to spare.

Flores climbs in first, exhaustion radiating off her lithe frame. Steve goes next, Flores helping him into a seat before reaching for Danny. As Danny reaches into the cockpit to radio his superiors, Steve watches Flores out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t miss how she gives the empty chairs in the helo a heavy glance, the tightening of her jaw, the furrow of her brow. With a muted sigh, she slumps into a seat by the door, not even bothering to remove any gear before she firmly shuts her eyes.

Danny returns and takes the seat opposite Steve, gaze flicking over to Flores for a brief moment.

“Thank you,” Steve begins.

“You don’t have to,” Danny interjects. “We had a mission, and it’s our duty and responsibility to finish it. I’m glad we did.”

“But was it worth it?”

Danny pauses, looks around the empty darkness of the helo, and something flickers in his eyes.

“They knew, going in, that it’d be a dangerous mission. It’s an unfortunate loss — I’ve served with most of them for a few years now —, but it’s one that everyone’s prepared for. So, before you try to, don’t apologise. It’s not going to bring them back. Instead, it would be nice if you could learn how to control your impulses and realise that revenge isn’t always the answer; we can’t always be around to come bring you home.”

Steve tenses; he knows that Danny’s right. But it’s not like him to take criticisms without any form of argument, so he opens his mouth.

“You don’t —”

Danny holds up a hand. “I know enough. I asked to be briefed on the idiot who thought it would be smart to head into _North Korea_ looking for a notorious crime boss. And again, before you try to, you do not have to tell me why you decided to go after him. I get it — you want answers. If I were in your shoes, I would probably want the same answers. But _come on_ , did you really think that this was the best course of action? Coming into foreign territory with essentially no backup? You’re a damned good SEAL, Steve, I’ve read your files. You’re also a damned good cop – wait, is Five-0 even considered police? Whatever. The point is, I know that _you_ know how to keep a level head, how not to let emotions affect your decisions.”

Danny stops to catch a breath, and perhaps to gather his thoughts. “And while I have never lost a parent, I have lost a sibling. To the job. I know wanting to put a bullet into the assholes that take your loved ones away from you.”

Steve’s a little taken aback by how… invested Danny seems to be in this situation. He had expected Danny to accept his gratitude for getting him out of this hellhole, and his apologies for getting his teammates killed. But instead, he finds himself right in the middle of a very heartfelt conversation, one that he’s not entirely ready for.

“But you cannot let them slowly pick away at you. Haven’t they taken enough from you?”

Suddenly, energy seeps out of Steve’s body, and he slumps bonelessly into the uncomfortable back of his chair. He doesn’t grace Danny’s question with a response, nor does Danny try to pry one out of him. He chances a glance at the blond, however, and is met with a steady gaze.

“Find things,” Danny says, “and people, that will dull this edge of desperation you seem to have.”

There’s a note of finality in his voice, and sure enough, Danny shifts a little in his seat before turning to look out into the night. The rest of the ride back over the DMZ is spent in silence.

 

 

 

  
It’s the crack of dawn when they finally land in Honolulu.

Steve had expected just a handful of people to be there – Catherine, Chin and Kono, maybe the interim Governor –, so when he exits the plane and sees the small crowd gathered by the runway, he’s more than a little surprised.

Joe is there too, along with Kamekona, Max, and the rest of his extended team. He doesn’t quite know who to first approach, but Danny solves that problem for him by nudging him over to the pair of EMTs waiting patiently by an ambulance.

“What –”

“Don’t be a stubborn idiot,” Danny interrupts. “Go get checked out. I’m going to report to your Commanding Officer and the Governor now, so don’t give me any more reasons to bitch about you than the ones I already have.”

Before Steve can even think about arguing, Danny’s no longer by his side, and there are gloved fingers prodding along his bruised ribs. Catherine comes over, worry evident in her eyes. She hovers, unwilling to disrupt the EMTs as they fix Steve up to the best of their abilities before transporting him to the hospital for the rest.

“How are – are you –”

“I’m alright, Cath,” Steve says, mildly amused at how flustered she seems to be. “Could be better, of course, but could also be a lot worse.”

“I’m sorry,” she sighs. “I should’ve obtained more intel before I –”

“Don’t beat yourself up over it. I made a decision to go, and the consequences are on my own shoulders.”

“I know, but –”

“Boss!”

Steve looks past Catherine’s shoulders to see Kono running over, long limbs carrying her across the asphalt in a matter of seconds. The rest of the team trail after her.

An EMT manages to hold Kono back from jumping on Steve and giving him a rib-bruising hug, telling her to “Please refrain from further aggravating his injuries.” She scowls at the EMT – who gives her a stern look in return – but softens immediately when Steve chuckles fondly. At least the EMTs allow Steve to be coddled, and it doesn’t take long before Steve’s feeling a little overwhelmed from all the love and care he’s receiving.

The reunion’s cut short when Danny nudges his way into the fray. Steve scans the area, but Flores seems to have long disappeared.

“Alright. All the formalities have been sorted out. You’re gonna have to write a report – no, don’t look at me like that, that’s Commander White’s order –, but apart from that, everything is as good as it can be. I hope you have a speedy recovery, McGarrett. I’m honoured to have this mission as my last. Perhaps I’ll see you around.”

Danny salutes him, and Steve returns it immediately. With a wry smile, Danny turns to leave.

But it seems that the rest of Five-0 have something to say. Kono stops Danny with a hand on his elbow, and the second he turns around, she gives him the hug that was probably meant for Steve.

“Thank you,” she says fervently, voice muffled by Danny’s neck. “For bringing him back.”

“We’re all very sorry for your team’s loss,” Chin adds. “If there’s anything we can do for you or their families, please let us know.”

Danny gives Kono a few awkward pats on her back. “Uh, yeah, thanks. I will. Keep your boss on a leash, huh? Don’t let him escape.”

“Good idea,” Kono says, pulling back. “Theoretically.”

Danny snorts, glancing over at Steve. Jerry says something, but Steve only seems to register the sheer blueness of Danny’s eyes. Jesus, they’re like gemstones.

He’s still stunned by their colour by the time Danny’s gone.

 

 

 

It takes Steve four whole days to convince the doctors that he’s good enough to go home. He’s so sick and tired of sterile walls and bland food — he’s even craving a hot shower, possibly one that takes longer than a handful of minutes.

Chin picks him up and drops him off, only leaving after he forces Steve to promise that he’ll take his meds. Once the door shuts behind Chin, Steve activates the alarm and makes a beeline for the shower.

He sees it for the first time in the mirror.

It wraps around his forearm, a couple of inches below the crease of his elbow. The white lines are thin, the design intricate. If Steve squints hard enough, it looks as though he’s got a band of snowflakes around his arm. His soulmark.

He’s not sure how he should feel about this. For three and a half decades he’s lived without his soulmark, and he’s been doing fine. He presses the pad of his thumb against the pattern, smooths it over his skin. Unlike the tattoos he has, his soulmark blends perfectly into the dermis — he can’t feel a single raised edge.

It’s impossible to figure out who his soulmark reacted to. His time in North Korea was spent mostly in dim lighting, and people were constantly manhandling him, decorating his body with bruises. More than a dozen hospital staff have touched him, not to mention the random people he might’ve brushed past in the halls or out on the streets.

Too tired to give his new soulmark much thought, Steve shuffles into the shower and lets the steady jet of hot water bleed the tension out of his muscles.

 

 

 

  
Three weeks after his discharge, Steve’s ribs and the muscle-deep gash in his left thigh finally feel good enough for him to return to full duty. The bounce in his step is obvious when he strides into the office, and Kono grins at him from her perch by the smart table.

“Welcome back, Boss! Cath’s been going crazy, having to tag along with Lou and Abby for crime scenes.” She tilts her head. “Well, I’d guess that you probably had it worse, huh?”

“I don’t even want to talk about it,” Steve grimaces, remembering how he’d been essentially bedridden for the past few weeks while his injuries healed. Barred from any form of strenuous physical activity, Steve had kept himself occupied by fixing up the Marquis and sorting through all the junk in his house. That project lasted all but 10 days before Steve decided he’d had enough and proceeded to spend the rest of his medical leave hanging around HQ. There, he sat around watching glumly as the rest of the team got to go out and catch criminals while he remained stuck inside the building, relegated to research.

At least he’d been able to spend some time hunting down Wo Fat for what seems like the umpteenth time. While the mission to rescue him from North Korea was underway, there had been another team deployed to secure Wo Fat. But of course, the man somehow managed to evade a team of trained soldiers, and after over 36 hours, the team had pulled out.

Steve’s back at square one. Again.

“Did you find anything useful? Anything regarding Shelburne?”

“No, but I’m hoping Joe will.”

She hums, sounding a little apologetic.

“We’ll get him, boss, don’t worry. We did it once, and we can do it again.”

Before Steve can reply, Chin and Abby walk in with identical, soft smiles on their faces. It’s hard not to melt a little at the sight of them — their journey hasn’t been easy, fraught with lies and secrets. But their soulmarks are clear, both circular patterns on their palms from their first ever handshake.

Abby gives him a hug, and Chin gives him one of his signature enigmatic smiles.

Then, his phone rings.

 

 

 

  
By the time Steve pulls up to the crime scene, Cath is already there, kneeling over a body with Max by her side. The large pool of dried blood by the victim clearly suggests exsanguination as the cause of death.

“What do we got?”

“Single puncture wound to the neck that pierced the carotid,” she replies, pointing to the hole roughly 7mm in diameter. “No signs of struggle, no signs of forced entry, and the alarm system was turned off. Time of death approximately 11 p.m.”

Max glances up at Steve. “There are, however, signs of sexual assault. Judging by the fact that there is a half-filled wine bottle on the counter and washed glasses in the sink, I am relatively comfortable assuming that the perpetrator drugged our victim and washed the glass after the murder in order to remove any traces. I will be running a tox screen, of course, and will send you the results as soon as I get them.”

“There’s something else,” Cath adds. Max leans over and picks up the victim’s left hand, flipping it around to show Steve the ring that rests on her ring finger.

“What is that?”

“It’s a yellow carnation,” Max says. “Encased in a sphere of resin.”

“Yellow carnations have a negative connotation.” The three of them turn to see Lou strolling over. “Rejection, disappointment, and disdain.”

“Great,” Steve says, planting his hands on his hips and glancing around. “It seems like we’re dealing with a man or a woman scorned.”

Kono approaches them, waving a little pocketbook in her hand. “Our vic scheduled a date for last night,” she says, “around the time of the murder. There’s no name, but it’s pretty clear that it’s whoever killed her. Chin’s got her laptop – maybe she mentioned her date to some friends, or maybe she was on a dating service.”

“Okay,” Steve nods. “That’s a start.”

 

 

 

  
“Our victim is a 28 year old local by the name of Kei Akiona. She runs a small jewellery store by the boulevard, no employees. Parents are both dead, but she’s close with her aunt. She also has a half-brother, but he lives in San Francisco and from what I can tell, they rarely talk. She’s not too social – hangs out with the same small group of friends, just nice meals and shopping trips, no crazy antics.”

Chin hits a few buttons on his beloved smart table and brings up another window.

“She does, however, have profiles up on multiple dating sites. She is, as you can probably note from her details, a lesbian.”

“Doesn’t rule out a male perp,” Steve points out. “Could very well be a homophobic, conceited male who got offended when he realised she wasn’t interested.”

“I’ve gone through her most recent match histories and have requested the dating sites for their personal information and IP addresses. I’ve started matching profile pictures with other social media accounts just in case the companies stonewall me – unsurprisingly, I’ve gotten a lot of false results.”

“Catfishing is a delight,” Cath quips, face unamused.

“Alright, let’s split up and talk to her aunt and friends. Chin, send us a list of names and addresses. You and Kono take the first third, Abby and Lou the second, and Cath and I will round it up.”

 

 

 

  
The team’s almost done with the list when they receive another call. Steve and Cath are the closest to the crime scene, and as such, they’re the first to arrive.

“I’m afraid we might have a serial killer on our hands,” Max says when they walk in. He’s got something resting in his palm, and it looks almost identical to the ring worn by Kei Akiona. “Cause of death is essentially identical as well – I haven’t yet been able to figure out the murder weapon, but hopefully an additional body will provide some information that I’m lacking. I will try my best to rush the tox screen analyses.”

Chin enters the house, sees the resin cube, and continues walking. “Getting the laptop,” he calls over his shoulder.

“Wine,” Cath notes, pointing at the kitchen counter.

“Sexual assault?”

“There are signs, yes. I found non-biological particulates in the first victim, and they’re currently being processed.”

“Non-biological?”

“If I had to guess, the perp used a phallic object of some sort to violate the first victim – if the pattern holds, this one as well.”

“That makes it even harder to determine the perp’s gender.”

“I spoke with Kei’s aunt,” Kono says, entering from another room. “She said that Kei mentioned going on a date with a woman on the day she died, but didn’t offer a name or any other details. She’s also never seen the ring before.” She pauses to glance down at their second victim. “Also, is it just me, or does this victim look a lot like Kei?”

“They do have similar cranial features,” Max responds, pulling up a picture of Kei on his phone and looking between their two victims. “Arched sagittal contours, rounded orbital openings, narrow nasal opening –”

“I don’t think Kono’s talking about their skulls, Max,” Abby interrupts kindly. “I think she’s referring to their hair colour, skin colour, height…”

“Oh. Yes, I suppose they do look alike if you were to use those as points of comparison.”

“He or she has a type,” Kono says. “Someone who looks like our vics probably hurt our perp really badly.”

Cath’s phone rings and she excuses herself to take the call.

Chin walks back into the room and sets a laptop on the kitchen counter. “According to her dating profiles, our second vic’s name is Ewa Kauanui. 27, local, a manager at an Italian bistro. Loves hiking, wakeboarding, salsa dancing. Has two brothers.”

“She’s on dating sites, too?”

“Yes. Lesbian as well.”

“Alright; we’ll have to lean a little harder on those dating sites. We need those names. Focus on the dating sites that both victims used. Max, do your best to speed up the tox screen results and figure out what the murder weapon is. The rest of you – let’s finish up our interviews and start on the list for Ewa’s. We should probably talk to their neighbours as well; there’s always a chance that someone saw something.”

 

 

 

  
Thankfully, the murderer seems to take the weekends off. It gives the team some much needed time to rest and to catch up on the investigation. One of Ewa’s neighbours indeed noticed something – she had left her house at around 10:30 p.m. on the night of Ewa’s murder, and saw a slim figure, approximately 5’ 5” in height, entering Ewa’s house. As the figure crossed the threshold, the porch light picked up long, blonde hair. With that information, the team had come to the conclusion that they’re definitely looking for a female.

A couple of the dating sites finally send Five-0 the lists of names they needed, and Chin spends a good hour scanning through the lists and highlighting any overlapping names. He comes up with fourteen, all female.

Charlie calls during lunch, and he informs the team that the object used to assault the victims is a steel rod, approximately two and a half inches in diameter. The edges are relatively smooth, however, as Max did not discover excessive tearing to the vaginal walls. Kono winces at that and sets her half-eaten tuna sandwich aside.

They stay in the office for the entire day on Saturday, the lack of action and movement leaving Steve quite restless. When he finally gets home just a few minutes before midnight, he strips off on his way to the bathroom, tugs on a pair of board shorts, and makes a beeline for the ocean. There’s too much energy left in his body, and he really needs to find a way to work it off. He swims five miles, runs for half an hour through waist-high water, and finally trudges back home, his body at a good level of exhaustion.

A three-minute shower later, he sprawls out across his bed and inhales the faint scent of salt water. He falls asleep almost instantly.

 

 

 

 

HQ is empty when he walks in, but it’s to be expected. It’s a Sunday, and everyone in his team has social obligations to fulfil. Kono and Chin – and their respective partners – have Sunday lunch with their huge family, Lou and Renee are probably out on their weekly date, and Cath is… where _is_ Cath?

Shrugging, Steve disappears into his office to deal with the obnoxious pile of paperwork on his desk currently staring daggers at him. He loses himself to the humdrum of filling out forms, only pulling himself out of it when he hears faint laughter.

Glancing out, he spots Catherine standing by the main doors, hair swept up in a neat chignon and dressed prettily in a sundress. She’s leaning against the doorframe, engaged in conversation with someone blocked from Steve’s line of sight.

Curious, Steve rises from his seat and heads out of his office.

He recognises the voice before he sees who the mysterious person is.

“Billy?”

“S-Steve!” Cath seems a little flustered, but Billy Harrington distracts Steve from wondering why with a solid hand on his shoulder.

“McGarrett! Been a while, huh?”

“Yeah,” Steve grins, taking in the sight of his fellow SEAL decked out in white shorts and a pale pink shirt. It’s different – good, but different. “It’s been what, five years? How’ve you been?”

“Things are good, man. The last time I saw you was what, before you went into that classified op?”

If Billy notices Steve’s eyes harden minutely at the mention of the operation that ended with his father’s death, he doesn’t say anything.

“Yeah,” Steve says, clipped.

“I retired from the Navy not too long ago; heard you’re in the Reserves now? How’s the new gig going for you?”

“It’s good, I’ve been enjoying the –”

“Steve?”

He glances over at Catherine, who looks quite nervous.

“I have something to tell you.” At Steve’s questioning look, she takes a deep breath and continues. “Billy… offered me a job. He’s starting a private security firm, and he wants me to head up his Intel Department. I accepted.”

Steve’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.

“When were you planning on telling me?”

“I actually came here today to hand in my resignation,” Cath says, looking a little sheepish. “I know it’s sudden, and I probably should have discussed it with you before I made my decision, maybe give you more time to look for a replacement. I can stay until we finish this case, that’s not a problem.”

Catherine and Billy had dated in the past, back when they were young and too inexperienced to be able to juggle a personal life with their budding careers – their year and a half long relationship ended when neither could withstand the constant uncertainty and distance that came with their jobs. They’d loved each other, and Steve suspects that they’ve never really moved on. Since Catherine left the Navy and turned up on Steve’s doorstep three years ago, they’d found themselves in some sort of limbo; exclusive when it came to anything physical, but she never asked for his heart, and he never asked for hers. They enjoy each other’s company well enough, and Steve treasures her dearly as a friend, but they could never be more than that.

Even now, Steve sees how she gravitates towards Billy, how the set of her shoulders and the faint lines around her eyes seem to relax in his presence. He smiles at her, and is glad to realise that the action isn’t forced.

“It’s alright, Cath. If the job’s waiting for you, you should go. This has never really been your thing, anyway. Try and come in tomorrow though, I know the team will want to say their goodbyes in person. You’ll still be in Hawaii?”

“I will,” she says, relief evident on her face as she smiles in return. “And yes, I will be. Well, half of my time will be split between here and the mainland, but I’ll always be available to chat.”

She digs around in her purse and pulls out an envelope.

“Here. My resignation letter. Take it – Five-0 has to do _some_ things by the book,” she teases.

Steve takes it and slips it into one of his many pockets. Leaning down, he gives her a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Take care of her. She’s a great asset to any team.”

“I will,” Billy assures him, and Steve knows that she’s in good hands.

 

 

 

  
“What’s all this?”

Steve looks up from the small fort of files he’s built around himself on the smart table. “These are candidates for the empty position we now have on the team. Courtesy of the Governor.”

The corner of Chin’s mouth dips a little as he peers down at the files. “Huh. Quite a lot of names.”

“Wanna help? Kono’s at Max’s for his report on the third vic, Grover’s out doing some canvassing, and Abby’s trying to find out if the lab’s got anything on the drug. I’ve been ordered to find a replacement for Cath before I’m allowed to head back out in the field —”

Chin snorts. “Did the Governor say that?”

“He might’ve implied that I… require someone watching my back,” Steve sniffs, face pinched. “For my safety.”

A grin slowly splits across Chin’s face. “You don’t say.”

“Are you gonna help me or not.”

Relenting, Chin settles down by the table and gestures for Steve to slide a pile over. “It’s not gonna be easy to find someone who can handle you, brah. But I’m down for the challenge.”

Steve rolls his eyes and opens another file.

Twenty minutes later, the Reject pile is threatening to topple over, while the Acceptable pile contains barely a dozen people.

“This is —” Steve begins, but Chin abruptly holds up a hand. “What?”

“Take a look at this one,” he says, sliding a file over.

Steve opens it to see a familiar face peering up at him.

_**Name** : Daniel Williams_  
_**Age** : 37_  
_**Birthplace** : Newark, New Jersey_  
_**Current Location:** Honolulu, Hawaii_  
_**Family** : Eddie Williams (Father)_  
_Clara Williams (Mother)_  
_Stella Williams (Sister)_  
_Matt Williams (Brother) (Deceased)_  
_Bridget Williams (Sister)_  
_Grace Williams (Daughter)_  
_Charles Williams (Son)_  
_Rachel Edwards (Ex-Wife)_  
_**Affiliations** : United States Army; Special Forces; Delta Force — 16 years(inclusive of time in the Reserves), Staff Sergeant, retired. _  
_Newark Police Department: Detective Sergeant; 5 years._

“Oh.”

Chin leans forward on his elbows, looking mighty pleased with himself.

“Would you like me to set up an interview for him?”

“We don’t need to conduct interviews,” Steve mumbles, slightly distracted as he thumbs through the rest of Danny’s file. It’s incredibly detailed, and Steve feels a little uncomfortable reading through some parts. Maybe he’ll skip those and Danny can tell him about them when and if he wants to.

Wait, he’s already assuming Danny will accept the job offer. To be his partner. What’s to say that Danny even wants to be back working in law enforcement in the first place, much less alongside someone who had caused the deaths of so many of his military teammates? But Steve’s gut is telling him to do it, and Steve really loves listening to his gut.

“I’m gonna go pay him a visit,” Steve decides. Chin simply smiles at him.

 

 

    

  
It starts pouring during the drive to Danny’s apartment. Fat raindrops echo as they bounce off the roof of the Silverado, Steve’s fingers drumming a jagged beat on the steering wheel.

He pulls into the driveway of Danny’s apartment block and steps out into a sheet of rain. The stairs seem a little rickety, but Steve blinks water out of his eyes and takes them up two at a time.

Finding Danny’s unit with ease, he raps once, twice, thrice. A few seconds later, the door opens to reveal Danny, decked out in a thin cotton tee and sweats. The surprise is evident on his face.

“... Commander McGarrett?”

“Just Steve, please. Rank meant nothing the first time, and it doesn’t matter now.”

“Alright, Just Steve. Would you like to, uh, come in?”

“Oh, yeah, but I’m a little —”

“Soaked to the bone,” Danny finishes. “Yes, I can see that. Wait there, and don’t drip everywhere.”

Steve watches with an odd sense of fascination as Danny disappears into his apartment and returns with a pale blue towel.

“Here. Try to keep that puddle right where it is, huh?”

“I’ll do my best,” Steve promises, taking the towel and rubbing at his hair. He inhales a faint, clean scent, and wonders if it’s Danny’s or the laundry detergent.

“So. Why are you here?”

“Right.” Steve fiddles with the towel, wipes a stray bead of water from the side of his neck. “I was wondering if you’d like to join Five-0.”

Danny’s eyebrows shoot up.

“I’m sorry, you want me to what, now?”

“Join Five-0. Be my partner.”

“Me. Why me?”

Steve shrugs, a little unsure of how to answer that question. “I went with my gut. You’ve as much military training as I do, and the fact that you’ve been a cop is a great bonus. I’ve seen you work tough missions under duress, and from what I’ve been exposed to, you seem like a decent enough person. I think —” He pauses.

Danny’s eyebrows stay raised. “You think?”

“I think we’ll make good partners.”

Pulling his bottom lip past his teeth, Danny takes a few seconds to study Steve. It’s at this point that Steve notices just how… compact Danny is. But he also notices how Danny seems to take up more space than his body does. Maybe it’s the broad shoulders, Steve muses, or maybe it’s because he knows that Danny could probably kill someone with just the frames of his glasses. Glasses that highlight the blue of his eyes very well.

“I’m going to need some time to think about this,” Danny finally says. “I’ll tell you right now that I never planned on going back into law enforcement after retiring from the Army, so this is more than a little unexpected. But — I will think about it.”

Steve apparently does something with his face, because Danny huffs. “What?”

“Well,” Steve begins. “See, the thing is, we are currently in the middle of a serial case, and we could really use the help. Come on, it’ll be like sliding in a pair of your favourite, long-lost sweatpants. Comfortable and at home.”

“Could use the help,” Danny repeats flatly. “Could use the help, he says. Comes to my home, pushes a job onto me, and practically tells me that if I don’t accept it, my conscience will not be at ease if a serial killer kills someone else in the next few days. Could use the help.”

Steve’s mind blanks out for a bit. Danny… has a mouth. Okay, alright, he can deal with this.

“Yeah,” he says simply.

Danny rolls his eyes. “Alright. Fine. But there’d better be an increase in my salary; as much as I loved serving our country, I did not love the pay.”

 

 

 

  
The second introductions have been made, Kono gifts Danny with another enthusiastic hug.

“SFC Williams! Oh my god!” She cries, “I never thought I’d see you again! I just want to thank you, one more time, for bringing Bossman back to us. I don’t know what —”

“ _Kono_.”

Her jaw slams shut, and she sends Steve a reproachful look.

“Hey, it’s alright. Let her express her feelings. As a fellow military man, I understand it’s hard for you to talk about your feelings, and when others do so, you might get a little uncomfortable. But see, _I_ am perfectly at ease with expressing myself, and I encourage the same in return. So please, Kono, get it all out of your system.”

Kono’s grin spreads slowly, and she turns to look gleefully at a rather stunned Steve. Behind him, Chin chuckles softly.

“We’re keeping him, right?”

“ _Keeping?_ ” Danny says, both hands extended outwards, palms facing the rest of the team. “Who said anything about ‘keeping’? No one is ‘keeping’ me, alright? Let me make something very clear – if I work here, you,” he jabs a finger at Steve’s chest, “are to treat me as your _equal_. Even though I know you outrank – outrank _ed_ – me. Oh, and speaking of ranks, please don’t call me SFC Williams. I’m retired; just a civilian now.”

“No one’s keeping you,” Steve affirms, crossing his arms.

“We’re keeping him,” Kono insists, reaching out and tugging on Danny’s tie.

“Kono!”

“What? I like him! He’s all bark _and_ bite.” At that, Danny swats indignantly at Kono’s hand.

“I’m not a –”

“Wait a minute,” Lou says, taking a step forward. His eyebrows are doing their little curly thing again, and he reaches out to place a finger on Steve’s new soulmark. “When did you get that?”

Steve glances down, still unaccustomed to the presence of his soulmark, and flushes. In society, obtaining one’s soulmark is viewed as progressing into a new chapter of one’s life. It’s considered to be a big deal, and parties held to celebrate the discovery of a soulmark are quite common nowadays. It’s rare for a soulmark to appear past the age of 35, and Steve’s long gotten used to the fact that he might never get his. His team – some of which have seen him stark naked – had figured out a while ago that their boss isn’t marked, but they’ve never brought the issue up with him. But now, faced with the soulmark that is very clearly wrapped around Steve’s forearm, the whole team has more than a few questions.

“Uh,” Steve says eloquently. Everyone’s staring at him now. “I first saw it on the day I got discharged from the hospital. After North Korea.”

“Do you know when it first appeared?”

Steve shrugs. “I didn’t have it before I left for North Korea. But a lot of things happened between those two points in time. There were a lot of… hands on me.”

“So you don’t know who your soulmate is.”

“Not a clue. Could even be one of the assholes that beat me up over there. Who knows?”

Kono pulls a face, and Abby squeezes Steve’s elbow sympathetically.

“It’s not,” Danny says. When Steve looks over, Danny has an unreadable look in his eyes. “Soulmarks only appear if both parties are within… a manageable distance from each other. If your soulmate is really one of those assholes, then the mark wouldn’t even show. The distance is simply too much for the bond to take hold. Unless, of course, they’re in Hawaii. Which I doubt.”

“I never knew that,” Lou says thoughtfully. “Interesting.”

Danny shrugs. “I read into it after Rachel developed hers a few years into our marriage. Turns out that Stan, her soulmate, visited Newark for business. They bumped into each other in the subway – matching soulmarks on their arms and all. Since he’s a real estate developer, he has to leave the country regularly to check up on estates abroad. Whenever he was out of America, her mark faded, only to return when he returned.”

“Oh.”

Danny holds his gaze for a few more seconds before snorting lightly and gesturing towards the smart table. “Don’t we have a case to solve? The one that led to my forced employment?”


	2. Chapter 2

They’re only a few hours into working the case with Danny as their newest teammate when Steve receives a call.

“We’ve got another body.”

The team files out, and Danny finds himself standing next to Steve, staring at the Silverado.

“You drive _this_? Are you overcompensating for something?”

Steve splutters. “No, Danny, I’m not overcompensating for anything.”

Danny looks at him suspiciously. “I’m not riding in that. It’s obnoxious.”

“What? _Obnoxious_?”

“Do you have hearing problems? Or is the language processing part of your brain just broken? Come on, we’re taking my car.”

Steve, too unnerved by how Danny so easily talks back to him, follows his brand, spanking new partner to his car. They collide with each other just as Danny opens the door to the driver’s side.

“What the – McGarrett. Do your eyes not work, too?”

Steve huffs. “I usually drive, alright?”

Danny barks out a laugh. “Not with my car, babe.” He gets in behind the wheel and slams the door shut. Narrowing his eyes, Steve stalks around to the other side of the car. _Just wait and see, Jersey_ , he thinks.

“So where are we headed?”

“Do you even know how to get around yet?” Steve asks, twisting around so that he can stare at the other man.

“I’ve been here for over a year,” Danny snaps. “I can memorize any map in a matter of minutes; how about you have a little faith in me, huh? Considering the fact that I managed to save your ass in the middle of the night with no map?”

“Over a year and you’re still wearing a tie.”

“It’s called looking professional, you… you horrible _Neanderthal_. Now give me the damn address.”

 

 

 

  
By the time they arrive at the crime scene, Danny’s ready to sock Steve in the jaw. The man spent the whole ride complaining about how the sun would’ve surely set by the time Danny even got off the highway, and Danny had been sorely tempted to drive even slower just to piss Steve the hell off.

Kono raises an eyebrow when the pair storm into the house, Danny gesticulating wildly as he complains about something, and Steve glaring down at him as he provides some sort of lame excuse.

“Boss?”

Steve shuts up in the middle of his sentence and turns to look at her. He coughs awkwardly, finally noticing that they’ve got every single pair of eyes in the room trained on them. Danny doesn’t even seem remotely fazed.

“Right. What have we got?”

“Well, judging by the ring,” Kono says, crouching down and lifting the vic’s wrist, “I’d say it’s the same guy.”

When Max doesn’t immediately start talking, Steve figures out that something’s wrong.

“What’s the problem?”

“Commander. I still haven’t been able to figure out what the murder weapon is. I’ve tried everything that fits the weapon mould, but everything that fits should’ve left unique traces inside the wound.”

Danny slips on a pair of black latex gloves and wanders off into the kitchen, leaving Steve with a stressed-out Max.

He opens cabinets, picks through the trash, and peers into the fridge.

The freezer door is just about to swing shut when he notices it.

Walking back to where the body is, Danny gets down on his knees – making sure to avoid the blood – and pushes the vic’s hair aside to peer at the entrance wound. Then, he asks Kono to pull up the photos of the previous vics’ wounds taken during their autopsies.

“Steve.”

“Yeah?”

“This might sound a little… out there, but hear me out. I think that the murder weapon is an icicle. That’s the only substance slash material I can think of that doesn’t leave a single microscopic trace nor residue behind. The measurements from the first and second vics are identical – I’m guessing our perp uses a mould, either brings it with the weapon already formed, or takes the time when the victim’s out cold to create it. It’s a perfect weapon. It leaves no trace, and it cannot be traced back to you.”

He pauses to look back at the victim.

“Judging from the lack of arterial spray – well, the spray is certainly much more subdued than a wound of this type would generate –, I think the perp left the murder weapon inside the victim. As she bled out, the warmth of her blood and the room temperature slowly destroyed it.”

No one from the team utters a word.

Danny frowns. “What?”

“I can’t believe it,” Max mumbles, staring down at the body. “Is that really the answer?”

“Call Fong,” Steve says, turning to Kono. “Ask him to create a mould based on the specs Max obtained and test it out. And ask for an update on the tox screens – we really need them ASAP.”

He glances back at Danny and catches him looking right back.

“Good job.”

Danny rolls his eyes.

 

 

 

  
Danny strolls into HQ the next morning to find a cup of coffee waiting for him on the edge of the smart table. He notices how Chin’s gaze keeps flicking over to it and the tense set of his jaw.

“The fact that someone could easily knock that cup of coffee over is really stressing you out, huh?”

Chin simply glares at Steve in response. Steve looks up at the ceiling and takes a breath.

“Take your coffee, Danny.”

Danny grins and reaches around Steve for it. As soon as it leaves the surface of the smart table, Chin relaxes visibly.

“What’d you put in here?”

“One cream, two sugars. Took a safe bet. There are extra sugar packets if you need.”

Shrugging, Danny takes a sip. “Eh, should be –” His eyes widen. “Wow. What magical blend of coffee is this?”

“Kona,” Steve answers, a lilt of amusement to his voice. “Glad you like it.”

“Like it? I love it. This is one point that I’ll gladly give towards this pineapple-infested hellhole.”

“Pineapple-infested _what_?”

“You heard me,” Danny says, sipping gleefully at his coffee.

“How –”

“Gentlemen,” Chin interrupts, gesturing to the screen. “Shall we?”

Kono snickers.

“Alright. Fine. What do we have?”

“Max sent over the tox screens of the first two vics. Traces of Zopiclone were found in both of them.”

“Zopiclone?”

“That’s a hypnotic agent.” Danny’s no longer fawning over his coffee, gaze focused on the molecular structure currently floating about on the screen in front of them. “Used to treat insomnia.”

“How do you –”

“My, uh, brother suffered from insomnia. He tried zopiclone, but there were too many negative side effects, so he switched to zaleplon instead.”

Steve wonders if he should step in, wonders if Danny’s okay with talking about his brother. But before he can come to a decision, Danny’s already moving on.

“What’s important is that zopiclone is a controlled substance in the States, and requires a prescription. We should check with clinics and hospitals, obtain a list of names of patients who use it, and crosscheck it with the shortlist we already have. Shouldn’t be too long of a list, considering how many different sleeping pills are out on the market.”

Chin nods and begins typing on the table.

“Fong’s finishing up on the mould,” Abby reports, walking in and stopping by Chin’s side. “He says that he’ll have it ready by the end of the day.”

“Great,” Steve says, fingers drumming against the edge of the table.

“Why are you fidgeting?”

“What?”

“Why,” Danny repeats, slower than the first time, “are you fidgeting?”

“Am not,” Steve says, crossing his arms. 

Danny waits for a beat, and then looks pointedly at Steve’s jiggling leg.

“He’s antsy because this case isn’t high intensity,” Kono offers by means of an explanation. “He doesn’t get to run around and blow things up.”

“You do realize,” Danny says, turning back to look at Steve, one hand sweeping through the air in an arc. “That protecting the public is _not_ synonymous with blowing things up, yes?”

“Yes, Daniel, I realize that. I don’t blow things up for fun. Kono likes to exaggerate.”

“Sometimes she’s not wrong,” Lou adds.

Danny sighs. What has he gotten himself into?

 

 

 

  
Sophia White’s house seems too picturesque. There are potted flowers arranged neatly on both sides of her door, the paint on the walls have nary a chip, and the door handle seems to gleam in the sunlight.

Steve steps up to the front door and raps his knuckles on the glass pane.

“Sophia White? Five-0. We’d like to speak to you.”

As they wait for a response, Danny’s gaze floats down to rest on Steve’s soulmark. The white stands out prettily against Steve’s tanned skin, and Danny notices that the pattern looks a lot like snowflakes. He misses snow.

A crash from inside the house pulls him back to reality, and he replies to Steve’s unspoken query with a quick nod of his head. With a swift kick, the door swings open, and they head in with their guns drawn. It’s a large house, and with Lou and Abby dispatched to check out Sophia’s workplace, the remaining four are left to clear (what is essentially) a mansion.

Leaving the upper floors for Chin and Kono, Steve heads deeper into the main floor, Danny on his heels. They split up to search the many rooms, and just as Danny’s about to leave one of the guest rooms, something pierces through his left quadricep, sending spikes of pain shooting up through his spine.

“Son of a –” As Danny regains his bearings, Sophia White dashes out of the room and down the hall. “Steven!”

Steve comes running seconds later, eyes wide. “What?” He sees the icicle sticking out of Danny’s thigh. “Oh shit.”

“Down the fucking hall,” Danny hisses, yanking it out of his leg. It didn’t go deep enough to cause serious damage, but it still hurts like a bitch. As Steve chases after Sophia, Danny makes his way into the kitchen and sticks the icicle — blood smeared down the tip, streaky with water — back in the freezer. He glowers at it for a second before shutting the freezer door.

By the time he finds Steve, he’s got Sophia pinned to the ground, hands locked behind her back as he slaps cuffs around her wrists.

“Get up,” Steve grunts. He yanks her to her feet roughly.

A pair of HPD cops enter the house and Steve passes Sophia off to them.

“Did you read her her rights?”

The corners of Steve’s mouth pull down as he shrugs. “Nope.”

Danny opens his mouth to say something but realises it’ll be futile, so he shuts it and gestures for Steve to follow him.

“We need hard evidence to book her. I put that damned icicle in the freezer, but we’ll probably need more for a solid conviction.”

“Wait,” Steve says, a hand on Danny’s shoulder.

Danny turns and starts when Steve takes a knee in front of him. “We haven’t even been on a date yet, and you’re already proposing?”

“Shut up.” Steve rips a strip of fabric from the hem of his shirt and ties it around the puncture wound in Danny’s thigh.

“Resourceful,” Danny quips.

 

 

 

  
They find one of the smoking guns in one of Sophia’s many potted plants. Chin had noticed that the soil was recently disturbed, and decided to go digging. Buried in the pot is a ring box, and inside, nestled in a bed of velvet, is an engagement ring. Diamonds set in the shape of a flower, perched atop a platinum band.

“Guess someone said no,” Kono comments, the ring cupped in her palm.

“Must’ve been her trigger,” Steve mumbles, picking up a photo frame – sitting next to a prescription for zopiclone – on a marble countertop. He flips the photo around. Pressed up against Sophia, a woman smiles up at them, looking eerily similar to their three victims.

“Found the goddamn mould,” Danny declares, walking into the room with a rectangular case in his hand. The makeshift bandage seems to be holding up nicely, the patch of blood soaked through the fabric all but dried up.

“Congrats on a successful first case with Five-0!” Kono says brightly. Danny simply looks down at his leg.

Steve snorts. “Team dinner tomorrow; beers on me.”

 

 

 

  
It takes Danny two months and sixteen days to realise that Five-0’s taken him in as one of their _ohana_. They’ve managed to win him over by doting on Grace — on their very first meeting three weeks into Danny’s new partnership — to the point where she’d begged Danny to let her hang out with them again the next time he had her.

At the sight of Grace beaming up at Steve when he’d presented her with a large serving of pineapple (!) shave ice, Danny had promptly melted just as quickly as the ice did under the Hawaiian heat. He’d even given in to Steve’s constant requests of driving _his car_.

Anyone Grace approves of is someone Danny will ultimately approve of. That’s just how it is.

But while Danny may enjoy the company of his new team more and more with each passing day, he realises that there are still quite a few unbroken walls between Steve and himself. Any time either one of them comes close to bringing up a personal or sensitive topic, the other one clams up.

It’s not that Danny doesn’t trust Steve. Steve’s already proven himself to be a solid partner, always having Danny’s back, _even if_ he does very much like to blow things up and do things the dramatic way. With no backup. No, it’s the fact that Steve is a very private person, and always has been, unwilling to pull his heart out from its locked cage and show it to the world, even just for a split second. Danny, although willing to bare his own heart open to his partner, doesn’t want to do so if it’s not reciprocated. Hey, it’s only fair, right?

They’ve been close, though. Danny can tell, from the way Steve opens his mouth to say something before abruptly shutting it and turning away with a small frown. Or from the way Steve tries to start conversations — real ones, not one of their now-iconic squabbles — in the car. Danny figures he’ll let Steve set the pace.

As long as it doesn’t affect their professional relationship, Danny’s perfectly fine with how things are.

But time is a catalyst for many things, albeit an unexpected one.

They’re in the middle of hunting down a group of arms dealers when Rachel calls and tells Danny that they’re leaving Hawaii for a two-week vacation, topping it off with the fact that they’ll be taking his kids along.

Two weeks without his children? That’s as close enough to torture as it’ll get without laying a finger on Danny’s body.

“You alright?” Steve asks, watching out of the corner of his eye as Danny hangs up the phone and seethes.

“If you consider my ex-wife taking the kids wherever she damn well pleases just because she has custody as ‘alright’, then yes, I’m ‘alright’.”

Steve drives in silence for a few moments. “What happened between you two?”

With a sigh, Danny rests an elbow on the edge of the window and stares out at the passing trees.

“We had a whirlwind romance. She crashed her car into mine deliberately, and I thought that was extremely… charming. We hit it off, and I even joined the Reserves during the last year of my service just to get married and start a life with her. Grace came along, but instead of further strengthening our family, Rachel used her birth to try and convince me to quit the force.

“Helping my country has always been a passion of mine, and she never made an effort to try to understand or embrace that. I left the army because I knew our marriage would never hold up if I were to get deployed somewhere for months on end. I was willing to give up my military career for her, for our family. I thought becoming a detective was a good compromise; is it not? I get to stay in the country, with her and our daughter, and I get to do the type of work I love.

“But it wasn’t enough for her. She wanted a stable life, one where she didn’t have to worry about my life every day of the week, month, year. I understood that, I did, but I simply couldn’t imagine doing anything else with my life. And in the midst of all that, Stan came along. Even if Stan wasn’t her soulmate, I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d left me for him regardless. He was able to give her the life she wanted. Stability and comfort.

“When she packed up and left for Hawaii, I came with. I couldn’t just leave Grace. But I also needed a job. So I joined the military again. Spent the first couple years in the Reserves, so I could be around for her childhood. But then I got drafted into Delta. Missed out on five years of my little girl’s life, on Charlie’s birth – that was a mistake and a blessing all in one, let me tell you – and all of his important firsts. I only ever got to see my kids when I came back from deployment, and I cherished those few weeks. Saying goodbye to them each time absolutely killed me.”

“And now you’re here,” Steve finishes, taking a turn.

“Yeah,” Danny says, sounding drained. “And I get to see them one measly day every week. And that’s not it, either. I found out a couple of weeks ago that Rachel and Stan want to leave Hawaii. Relocate elsewhere. With my children.”

Silence blankets the pair – Steve unsure of what to say, and Danny having said it all.

“Have you considered fighting for joint custody?”

Danny laughs, the hollow sound reverberating almost painfully in Steve’s bones. “On what grounds? She got custody the first time for a reason, Steve.”

“You’re a good father, Danny. I know I don’t have a lot of personal experience to compare that with, but I do think you’re one of the best fathers I’ve ever seen. If you ever want to file for joint custody, I promise I’ll do everything I can to help.”

 

 

 

  
“There is something seriously wrong with you, my friend.”

Steve spares Danny a glance before yanking his shirt up over his head. The article of clothing lands on the hood of the Camaro, followed first by Steve’s weapon, and then his backup weapon.

“Yeah?”

“Why is it,” Danny begins, cocking a hip and resting a hand on his gun holster, “that I’m forced to see you shirtless multiple times a week? Do you have a compulsive proclivity in regards to taking your shirt off?”

“It’s Hawaii,” Steve says. “Everyone walks around with their shirts off.”

“You are a _law enforcement officer_. You’re not a tourist. Or a model, despite what the public seems to think.”

Steve grins. Kono tries to mask hers behind her hair.

“I did _not_ mean that as a compliment,” Danny grouses.

“Well, Danno, I’m going to take it as one,” Steve says. He gestures to their suspect currently thrashing about in the water. “Can I go get him now? Before he cramps up and drowns?”

Sighing heavily, Danny waves Steve on. He narrowly misses being splashed by that stupid SEAL’s dive.

A few minutes later, Danny finds himself leaning over the edge of the pier, a hand stretched out for Steve to grab onto. Chin has their suspect, the guy coughing up lungfuls of water as Chin tries to stuff him into an HPD cruiser.

“Put a shirt on,” Danny mutters, tossing a towel at Steve’s face. Stupid SEAL and his stupidly attractive body.

 

 

 

  
Six months into Danny and Steve’s explosive partnership, the case on Wo Fat takes an unexpected turn. They’re in the middle of an interrogation when Steve’s phone rings. He takes one look at the screen and leaves the room.

Danny finishes up with the suspect and heads after his partner, finding him in his office, leaning back in his chair with an indecipherable expression on his face.

“Explain that face to me,” Danny says, closing the door behind him and gesturing at said face. “I haven’t seen this one before.”

Steve exhales, nostrils flaring, and leans forward.

“That was Joe. He called to inform me that the yakuza has… detained Wo Fat. Apparently, he’d killed the head of the yakuza, and the Noshimuri family swore to avenge the death. No word on if he’s alive or dead, at this point.”

“That’s good news, right?”

“When it comes to Wo Fat? Not until there’s proof of death,” Steve says. “But there’s more. Joe says he has information on Shelburne, and he wants me to meet him at my place in an hour.”

“You gonna go?”

“I have to. I need answers,” Steve tells him.

“You want me to come with?”

“No, it’s –” Steve stops to reconsider. “You know what? Yeah, come with.”

They take half an hour to debrief the rest of the team on their current case and figure out what their next steps are before leaving.

For once, Danny doesn’t harp on Steve for his irresponsible driving. He knows, although not to what extent, that this case is important to Steve and his mental well-being.

They get to Steve’s house with a few minutes to spare.

“Steve.” Danny gestures to the door. It’s ajar, the dusk light peeking through the gap.

They draw their weapons, footsteps light as they approach the door. Steve flattens his back against the wood, peers inside, and quietly eases the door open.

Instead of splitting up at the door and heading upstairs, Danny follows Steve into the kitchen. Clear. They head into the study, and Danny literally walks into Steve when he comes to a sudden stop.

“What,” Danny hisses, scrunching up his nose to alleviate some of the soreness.

“... _Mom_?”

 

 

 

  
Doris McGarrett, as Danny finds out, is something else. Something about her pisses Danny off, but he can’t quite place a finger on it.

“... to say to me,” Steve is saying when Danny tunes back in, “you can say in front of Danny. Recently, he’s been around for me much more than you have. He saved my life.”

“I left to _protect_ you,” Doris says softly. Her gaze flicks over to Danny, who raises a defiant eyebrow.

“No disrespect, _ma’am_ ,” Danny begins, “but assuming you are a key part of this fiasco with Wo Fat, then you definitely did _not_ do a good job of protecting your son. I saved him from something that _your_ actions put him in.”

She bristles at his words, but clears her throat and refocuses her attention on Steve, deeming Danny unimportant for the time being.

“I know you must have questions,” she says. “I’ll try my best to answer them.”

“Try her best,” Danny mutters. “Unbelievable.”

Steve reaches out to place a hand on Danny’s shoulder. To calm Danny or to ground himself?

“Okay. In that case, let’s start with: why are you alive?”

Doris sighs and perches on the edge of Steve’s desk. “I work for the CIA. Twenty years ago, I faked my own death. To protect you, Steven, and Mary. There were people out to get me, and if they thought I was dead, then they wouldn’t come after you.”

“You left and took our family with you.”

Steve’s grip on Danny’s shoulder tightens.

“You took our happiness with you. Dad’s spirit, Mary’s infectious laughter, my desire to feel. You took it all with you. Dad sent us away as soon as he could, did you know that? All he saw, whenever he looked at Mary and I, was you. He saw you, and because he lost you, he couldn’t stand looking at us. So he packed us up and shipped us off. We lost two parents in the span of months.”

Danny can feel Steve vibrating with anger.

“The day you left; you gave me a hug when you dropped me off at school. Some kids in my class saw. I was teased for a week, you know? Called me a mama’s boy and all that. And after you… were gone, they kept asking me where my mother was.”

Fuck, Danny thinks, that’s the saddest thing he’s heard in a long time. He chances a glance at Steve’s face, and the raw emotion he sees plastered across those handsome features shocks him.

For half a year, he’s gotten accustomed to Steve as a person and how he functions — control issues streaming out of him like water from broken faucets, running into danger without a second thought for backup, relying on brute strength and tactical knowledge to best their foes, and revealing just enough of himself to sustain any form of relationship with another person. They’ve found a comfortable balance, a nice push and pull where they’ll let bits and pieces of their hearts slip through every once in a while. The rest of the time, however, they keep their guards up high enough to feel safe.

But this? God, Danny’s never seen anything like this.

“Babe.” He keeps his tone gentle and waits until Steve’s looking at him before continuing. “Let it out.”

“How am I ever going to be able to trust her again, Danny?” His voice is barely above a whisper.

Steve’s still looking at him, his eyes so clouded that Danny can’t tell what colour they are right this second. Utterly unsure of what to say, Danny reaches out and places his palm against the small of Steve’s back.

“How?” Steve asks, turning back to his mother.

“I’m sorry I’ve had to lie and keep things from you,” Doris says, hints of desperation seeping into her words. “But let me try and make it up to you. We’re a family, Steve, and families can make it through anything.”

“You would be surprised,” Danny mutters, resisting the urge to run a hand through his hair.

“I’m nowhere near ready to let you back into my life,” Steve says, and Doris seems to deflate. “But you can start by explaining whatever connections you have with Wo Fat.”

 

 

 

  
The sun has long set, and Doris has long left.

Danny fishes out a couple of Longboards from the fridge and trudges down to the beach, where he places one into Steve’s hands before settling down into the rickety beach chair.

“How’re you doing?”

Steve takes a long pull of his beer and stares out at the waves lapping against the shore.

“I’m feeling a lot of things,” Steve says, “and I don’t know which one to process first. I don’t know how to… _cope_ with all of this.”

“Take your time,” Danny replies, kicking off his shoes and pulling his knees up to his chest. He gets himself as comfortable as possible, willing to wait as Steve sorts it all out.

They nurse their beers in silence for a while, and during that time, Danny can practically hear the mechanisms in Steve’s brain whir.

“I’ve already buried my mother once, Danny. What if I have to do it again?”

He sighs in frustration, knuckles white around the sweating neck of his beer bottle.

“And I’m so _angry_ at her. Angry at the choices she’s made, back then and now. Angry at myself for wanting to be involved, for wanting answers, for not being able to let shit go. For wanting to protect her.”

Steve digs his heels deeper into the sand.

“What am I gonna tell Mary?”

“You shouldn't be the one telling Mary anything. Your mother should.”

A mirthless snort.

“Danny, she only came here because I’m already knee-deep in the hunt for Wo Fat. She’s here because I serve a purpose. Because I can help her get what she wants. If she has no reason to involve Mary, she won’t.”

He drains the rest of his beer.

“Are you afraid she’ll leave again?”

A burst of sadness spreads across Steve’s features before he pulls it back and buries it deep inside.

“Yeah, Danny. I’m afraid she’ll leave again.”

Danny stares down at his hands.

“Then again, people always seem to leave me in the end. So maybe it’s high time I start expecting it.”

“I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

The look Steve gives him is a mixture of gratefulness, melancholy, and resignation. Danny doesn’t quite know what to do with it.

 

 

 

  
If anyone noticed a difference in Steve’s temperament over the next few weeks, no one mentioned anything. A few days after their meeting, Doris had left town, presumably to continue her hunt for Wo Fat’s father. Joe White refuses to tell Steve anything else, and Steve hasn’t been able to find a single lead on either Wo Fat’s status or Doris’ whereabouts.

The tension radiating off Steve’s imposing frame is very tangible, however, and the team’s been walking on glass shards around their boss for far too many days. Wanting to prevent Steve’s frustration from inevitably manifesting itself in forms of barbed words and/or impulsive decisions (read: actually using those grenades he keeps in one of his many pockets on some poor, undeserving pickpocketer that they’re bound to come across), Danny decides to haul in the big guns.

“Babe?”

Steve grunts in acknowledgement, but he doesn’t look away from his computer screen.

“I have Grace tomorrow, and she’d like to spend the day with you. If you’re okay with that.”

Steve stops his incessant clicking.

“Grace?”

Danny gives himself a mental pat on the back.

“Yes, Steven, my perfect little girl wants to see you. So? What do you say?”

“I can take her surfing?”

Danny pretends to think about it.

“If you promise to always have a hand on her.”

“Of course,” Steve says, sounding offended that Danny would think otherwise. “I’d never let anything happen to her, you know that.”

“I’ll bring her by your place tomorrow,” Danny says, rapping the edge of Steve’s desk.

 

 

 

  
“Uncle Steve!”

Steve’s been holed up in his garage for the past five minutes, trying to unearth the surfboard he’d bought Grace the day Danny agreed to let her learn surfing. Grace’s call knocks the frown right off his face, and he turns around just in time to catch her as she barrels straight into his arms.

“Grace Face!” Steve holds her close, a hand flat against her back and an arm under her bottom as he stands. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too, Uncle Steve! Are we really gonna go surfing?”

“Of course we are,” Steve says, “but I can’t find your surfboard. Wanna help me look for it?”

Grace nods excitedly, and Steve gives her a kiss on the cheek before letting her down. She starts the impromptu treasure hunt instantly, but Steve hangs back to greet Danny.

“Thanks for bringing her,” Steve says, watching fondly as Grace bends over to peer under the Marquis.

“It makes the both of you happy,” Danny shrugs, “which makes me happy. So everyone wins, really.”

Steve smiles, eyes still trained on the eleven-year-old girl bustling about his garage.

“Listen,” he says after a beat, “I’m sorry about… how I’ve been recently.”

Danny waves his apology off, grinning at his daughter when she finds a dusty medal of Steve’s and drapes it over her neck.

“Don’t be stupid,” he says. “I understand why you’ve been having a bad time. I just hope you know that I’m here for you, as is the rest of the team. That does not mean, Steven, it does not mean that you get to plan some intricate infiltration plan to retrieve Wo Fat’s father from god-knows-where just so you can get both your mother and Wo Fat in the same room to satisfy your need for answers. Okay?”

Steve blinks at him, eyebrows drawn together in stunned surprise.

“I… was not thinking of doing that. At all.”

Danny presses his lips together.

“Well, fuck.”

“Danno! Uncle Steve! I found it!”

 

 

 

  
Gradually, Steve manages to rein in his (near maniacal) urges of hunting for answers in regards to the Wo Fat case, and the workplace dynamic returns to normal.

It’s a Thursday afternoon. Danny’s catching up on paperwork, Chin’s keeping himself entertained with a cold case, Kono’s out doing god-knows-what, and Steve is… getting a call.

“We got a case,” Steve calls, exiting his office and gesturing for them to gather around the smart table. “Where’s Kono?”

“She went to get some malasadas,” Chin says, closing the files on his cold case. Danny perks up.

“Have I ever told you that your cousin’s a great lady?”

Chin grins at him.

“Alright, you can brief her later if she doesn’t make it back in time,” Steve says, and Chin nods in agreement.

“We have a break-in and a possible kidnapping,” Steve continues, tapping out the address on the smart table and pulling it up on the map. “Guy who lives there is a high ranking Naval Intelligence officer, so the higher-ups are automatically assuming that it’s a problem for national security. NCIS wanted in on this case, but the Governor pulled some strings; the case is ours for now, but Hetty has made it very clear that Sam and Callen will be on the next flight over if it seems that we can’t handle it.”

Danny, not recognising any of those names, looks to Chin for an explanation.

“Sam Hanna is Steve’s SEAL buddy.”

“Ah,” Danny says. “SEAL buddies. Is he as bad as you are?”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“Gear up,” he says. “We have a job to do.”

 

 

 

 

Thomas Knott is a naval intelligence officer based in the Hopper Center. Sent to Pearl for some classified talks, Knott had landed just three days ago, taking up residence at his holiday home.

The house is a mess, with clear signs of struggle – a smashed coffee table, a broken chair, and a bunched rug in the living room – and signs that someone’s searched through every nook and cranny of the house in search of something.

Steve’s on the phone with Catherine, hoping she’s able to contact her ex-colleagues for some information as to what intel Knott was carrying. Kono and Chin are somewhere in the house, probably cataloging all the evidence, so Danny takes a trip out to the back.

The ground is soft thanks to the recent uptick in precipitation, so Danny kneels – pulling a face when his knee twinges – and tries to spot footprints in the soil. He finds one, near the edge of the yard, after a few minutes of squinting. Taking a picture, he heads back into the house just as Steve hangs up the phone.

“Hey,” Steve says in acknowledgement. “Cath says that she’ll do her best, but suggests I ask the Governor to contact Knott’s superiors directly.”

Danny scratches at the hollow of his neck – he’s long stopped wearing ties – and nods. “Alright. I found a footprint back there. Got a picture and all, but I think we should get a 3D cast made – it doesn’t seem like Knott’s size, and Fong can probably determine the height and weight of the footprint’s owner if we get that cast to him.”

“Yeah, that’s a good idea,” Steve says, gesturing at a tech. “We’ll get that sorted out.”

 

 

 

  
Danny slides the grilled ahi onto a plate and loads the rest of it with fresh greens.

“Steve?”

“Yeah,” Steve answers, hunched over as he fiddles with the cables to the new TV.

“Mind if I ask you a question?”

“Go ahead.”

Setting the plate down onto the table, Danny takes a few steps closer to his partner and leans against the wall.

“Why don’t you ever go on dates?”

Steve turns to look at him over his shoulder, light catching on the few beads of sweat on his forehead.

“Where’d that come from?”

“Well, it’s a Friday night, Steve. We’re facing a few roadblocks in our case, so you’re not obligated to spend all your time in the office. Instead of going out and having a good time, maybe stumbling across that person whose mark is on your arm, you’re spending your Friday night with me, a divorced father of two.”

Shrugging, Steve plugs a few cables in and tests the TV to see if it works. It turns on to a blue screen. Huffing, Steve shuts it off and unplugs them all.

“Getting too old for all that, Danny.”

“You’re 37,” Danny says. “That’s not ancient. You could be 50 and still pull in half of Hawaii’s population just by taking your shirt off.”

Steve snorts and re-plugs the cables. “I’m flattered.”

“Of course you are.”

Sitting back, Steve tries the TV again. This time, it flickers on to a news channel, and Steve stands up with a pleased look plastered all over his face.

“And in regards to this –” he gestures to the soulmark on his arm, “if it’s meant to be, it’ll be.”

Danny takes a few moments to study Steve, but when Steve raises his eyebrows at him, he simply jerks his head towards the kitchen.

“Food’s ready.”

Steve follows him into the kitchen, nudging him in the side just before reaching out for his food.

“Besides, I like spending time with you.”

 

 

 

  
NCIS is on the brink of sending Sam and Callen over to Hawaii when they finally catch a break in the case. Turns out that the footprint Danny found was crucial to the case – Fong had managed to narrow down the make and model of the boot to an obscure company based in Israel that only manufactures goods for Mossad. So, with a few well-placed calls from military higher-ups, they’d managed to get a list of all known Mossad agents – former and present – who had left the country for the US within the past few weeks. From that list, only two names are unaccounted for; both agents gone rogue, and both spotted on airport security cams (travelling under fake names, of course).

In exchange for their extradition back to Israel, the Israeli government is willing to provide Five-0 with information – within reason – on both agents that they require in order to track them down. So here they are, on a Sunday, holed up in the Palace as they sift through piles of files regarding their two targets. Most things have been redacted, but they have enough to figure out what they’re dealing with.

“Aviel Levy was part of Flotilla 13 before being recruited to Mossad.”

As expected, Steve looks up from his own papers with a scowl. “A navy man going rogue and then targeting another navy man?”

“Some people aren’t honourable or as loyal to their country as you are, babe,” Danny comments, resisting the urge to run his fingers through his air. He’s feeling restless, suddenly hating the professionalism of their office and how it almost seems to hate the thought of comfort.

“C’mon,” Steve says, rising to his feet. He arranges his files into a neat pile and looks at Danny expectantly.

“And where are we going?”

“Shrimp Truck,” Steve replies. “I could use some sun and fresh air. And despite all your complaints about the sun, I know you don’t really mind it anymore.”

“What do you mean ‘anymore’,” Danny snorts, getting up and shuffling his papers together. “I still do.”

“Nah,” Steve grins. “This place is growing on you. I can tell.”

“You can tell, huh? What are you, a seer?”

“What the hell are seers?” Steve asks, before shaking his head. “Nevermind, I don’t want to know.”

They pause in the hallway to make sure the doors are locked.

“Your ties are gone,” Steve says, starting a checklist with his fingers. “Thankfully. You’ve finally unpacked all your boxes – don’t give me that look, I know you didn’t unpack some of them because you believed you’d be gone from Hawaii before you ever needed whatever was in them. You have _tan lines._ You have favourite dishes at every place we eat at, some of them Hawaiian. You like shave ice. You even own two aloha shirts, although you never wear them out in public. You’ve willingly gone into the water – hell, Danno, you stepped on a surfboard!”

“It’s called adapting,” Danny sniffs. “If I can’t remove the pineapples from this godforsaken rock, I have to get used to them.”

Steve laughs and tosses the files into the backseat.

Fifteen minutes later, they’re hunched over plates of garlic shrimp as they thumb through papers.

“Japhet Dahan has been flagged before,” Steve says through a mouthful of food. “Insubordination and physical altercations.”

“Awesome,” Danny mutters, “we’re dealing with two people with intense army training, anger issues, and authority issues. What could possibly go wrong?”

Steve glances up at Danny through those stupidly long eyelashes. “As long as we’re prepared for anything and everything, we’ll be fine.”


	3. Chapter 3

They get a lead a few days later when street cameras near a mall pick up Dahan through facial recognition. Chin tracks Dahan’s vehicle through the streets as it speeds off to its destination, Steve and Danny hot on his heels in the Camaro.

“He’s stopped 3 miles ahead of you,” Chin says through the comm, “in front of a large beachfront property. I tapped into the house’s security system, and from the cameras that they’ve installed there, I can see five armed guards circling the perimeter. Topography around the area is decently flat, and there aren’t any other houses in the immediate vicinity, so you won’t have much cover. I’m contacting ONI right now, see if they’re able to get us some heat signals and real-time satellite images.”

“We should stop here,” Danny says, gesturing to a diner just ahead. “Park here and go on foot. We’re less likely to get spotted that way.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, peering out of the window. “There’s a ridge over there that we can use for cover.”

“I’ve called SWAT,” Chin informs them, “and the rest of the team is on their way over with HPD. ONI is patching me through now.”

Steve sends the Camaro peeling into the diner’s parking lot with a sharp turn, and Danny’s out of the car before the engine dies. They head towards the trunk, where they strap on their tac vests and grab additional weapons. Steve’s SIG sits snugly in its holster around the man’s thigh, while the MP5K stays hidden underneath the leg of his pants. Danny loads up the HK416 and hands it off to Steve with a handful of mags before doing the same with his own rifle. Slinging across his chest, Danny makes sure his P30’s where it should be before slamming the trunk shut.

“How many grenades you got,” Danny asks, painfully aware of the stares they’re receiving from the diner’s patrons. Those windows are gigantic.

“Enough,” Steve answers, patting a bulging pocket.

“I bet,” Danny comments, shaking out his knee. “Alright, Commander. Let’s go.”

It’s been almost a year since he’s retired from the Army, but all of his training comes rushing back to Danny as soon as they start moving. Everything feels familiar; the stance they’re in, the rhythmic movement of the rifle against his back as they jog towards the ridge, his senses heightened for any possible hostile movements. He lets Steve lead, partly because he’s used to taking orders from higher-ups and partly because he’s never really liked leading in the first place.

“Sat images confirm five hostiles outside,” Chin says. “None of them are Levy or Dahan. Heat signals indicate six individuals inside, two on the second floor and the rest on the first. One seems to be seated alone and unmoving. The other three are in a separate room. Uploading blueprints to your phones now.”

“Boss.” Kono’s voice joins in. “I’m setting up across the inlet; I’ll have eyes on the guards in a minute.”

“You can take the shots when Danny and I get eyes on them,” Steve says. “What’s the status on HPD?”

“Told them to stand down unless we need them,” Chin says.

“Alright,” Steve says, straightening up as they arrive at the crest of the ridge. Danny holds out a pair of binoculars wordlessly, and Steve shoots him an amused smile.

“It’ll take us about 20 minutes to cover this distance,” Steve adds. “If either Levy or Dahan leaves the house, make sure you keep eyes on them. Remember, we need to take them in alive.”

He turns to Danny. “Have you been keeping up with your fitness regime?”

“I’ll have you know,” Danny starts, rising up on the balls of his feet. “That even with my bum knee, I’ve never fallen out of the top 5 once in my 14 years of serving.”

“Race you,” Steve grins, and promptly takes off.

“Asshole,” Danny mutters, knowing full well that Steve can hear him through their comms. The responding laugh brings a reluctant smile to Danny’s face.

 

 

 

  
His sleeves are refusing to roll up any higher, and Danny is _this close_ to cutting them off. It’s ridiculously hot, and the tac vest plasters the fabric of his shirt against his sweaty skin.

“Kono, sit-rep.”

“Eyes on two,” she says.

“Got the rest,” Danny adds, peering through the binoculars. “All armed.”

“Headshots only,” Steve instructs, and Kono acquiesces.

“First one to get two wins,” Steve says, nudging Danny in the side.

“This isn’t a game, you goof,” Danny sighs, grabbing his rifle. “They’re still people.”

“No grey lines in an op, Danno. Only black and white, good and evil.”

Unable to argue with that, Danny fixes the sight on his rifle and adjusts his position against the ridge as he lines up a shot.

“Both targets down,” Kono reports.

Steve gets into position, finger steady over the trigger. With a slow and steady exhale, Danny takes the first shot, and Steve follows up immediately. Turning the muzzle of his rifle a few degrees to the left, Danny shoots again.

“All clear,” Chin says.

“You got to shoot first,” Steve says, sounding a little petulant. Danny rolls his eyes, lifting an arm to wipe at the sweat on his forehead.

“You’re a child,” Danny informs him, shouldering the rifle once more and starting his way down the ridge towards the house.

They approach the house, quick on their feet and eyes sharp for any signs of unwanted movement. Lou and Abby are approaching from another direction, with Kono still on sniper duty and Chin coordinating their positions.

“Don’t think they’ve noticed that their security detail is down,” Chin says. “All heat signatures still within the house.”

“We’ll be in position in two minutes,” Steve says, skirting around a pile of rocks.

They try to avoid the windows as best they can, but it’s hard when the house is almost flooded with them.

“I have eyes on Knott,” Danny says, gesturing to a corner room on the first floor. “Looks like he’s knocked out.”

“Have eyes on two,” Abby adds. “Neither of them are Levy or Dahan.”

“Got the third one. Not one that we want, either.”

Steve takes a cursory glance at the blueprints on his phone. “Lou and Abby, you guys are in charge of getting Knott out. Take the back door; he should be in the second room on the left. Be careful not to get caught by the security cams. Danny and I will clear the first floor. When Knott is safe, come back in. Kono, you’re in charge of keeping us alive.”

“Will do my best, boss.”

“Ready, Danno?”

“Hold your horses, Super SEAL. Don’t do something stupid and bleed out all over me, okay? This mission is hard enough without me needing to worry about the consequences of your every move.”

“Yeah yeah yeah,” Steve says, waving a hand. “Let’s go.”

 

 

 

  
The first phase of their mission goes surprisingly well. Knott’s extraction takes barely five minutes, and Steve doesn’t even fire his gun once. All three targets were neutralised with broken necks, and not a single drop of blood was spilled.

In retrospect, that should’ve been a warning for Danny. Since when has a mission led by Steve ever gone off without a hitch?

They regroup with Abby and Lou outside the house, Chin updating them on the positions of the two remaining individuals that they’re assuming are Levy and Dahan.

“We’re gonna draw them out,” Steve says quietly. “Bring them downstairs, where we have more space to navigate. Remember, shoot to incapacitate, not kill.”

Everyone else nods, weapons loaded and drawn.

Danny enters the house first, Steve close behind as they make their way into the kitchen. Lou drags a dead body off the stairs and into a separate room.

Steve holds a hand up, signalling for them to stand by. Then, he grabs a wine bottle and hurls it at the wall. Seconds later, they hear a door open upstairs.

There’s a telltale creak of the stairs, and Danny waits with his back flat against the wall for someone to appear around the corner.

Before that ever happens, however, the house trembles as part of it explodes into smithereens. The blast throws Danny off his feet, and his shoulder collided painfully with a shelf. A corner jabs into his scapula, and it knocks the breath right out of him.

“Steve,” he rasps, hand pressing down against a ringing ear. He heaves forward, fingers scrabbling around for purchase, and he pulls himself painfully to his feet in search for his partner and teammates.

He sees Abby groaning in a corner, and he thinks he can make out Lou’s hulking frame slumped against the kitchen island, a hand pressed against his forehead. But he can’t find Steve.

“Steven!”

Crawling over to where Steve was supposed to be, Danny finally spots the tip of a shoe. Steve’s shoe. And it’s buried under a pile of rubble. Panic bubbles up in Danny’s throat, and he tosses his weapon aside in favour of trying to free Steve.

“Steve,” Danny urges, “can you hear me?”

He doesn’t get a response.

A crackle sounds in his ear, causing him to jump in shock and fling an instinctive hand out for his weapon.

“—nny? Danny!”

“Kono?”

“Oh my god.” She sounds terrified. “Are you guys okay? I saw the blast — most of the house is wrecked. Chin has already called in the EMTs and the firefighters, they should be there in a few minutes. Levy and Dahan… they got away, Danny. On a speedboat.”

“Steve’s hurt,” Danny grunts, shoving a slab of concrete off Steve’s body. As of this moment, he could really care less about the status of the two rogue Mossad agents. “Trapped.”

A hand lands on Danny’s shoulder, and pain ricochets up his arm.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he gasps, light spotting in front of his eyes.

“Shit,” Lou mutters. “You’re pretty banged up too, man. Sit back, let me do this.”

Danny glances up and sees that Lou is mostly alright, save for a plethora of scrapes and a busted lip. He’s about to take him up on his offer when hears a pained whine from Abby.

“Go get her,” Danny says instead. “I’ll be fine. Make sure she’s okay — you’re her partner, not me. Chin will kill you if anything happens to her.”

Lou grimaces and immediately turns on his heel.

Turning back to Steve, Danny clenches his teeth and resumes his task of freeing him from the debris.

After he’s cleared enough to free Steve’s chest, Danny leans forward and presses his fingers to his partner’s neck. His pulse is thin but steady, and Danny exhales in a mixture of pain and relief.

“Hey,” he tries again, patting Steve on the cheek. “Babe. Can you hear me? I need you to open your eyes for me, yeah?”

No response. Danny sighs and goes back to the job at hand.

 

 

 

  
It seems like a lifetime later when help finally arrives. Danny only lets the EMTs take him when Steve is lifted out of the rubble and into a medevac. The ride to the hospital passes by in a blur, and it’s only when he’s getting poked and prodded at by a doctor does he actually process what just happened.

“Wait,” Danny croaks, attempting to sit up. His doctor frowns and pins Danny back down onto the bed with a glare. “Where’s Steve? How is he?”

“He’s currently in surgery. Please turn to your left, Mr. Williams.”

Danny does as he’s told and experienced a hell of a lot of pain for his efforts.

Two hours later, Kono walks into his room looking utterly exhausted. She does, however, brighten up when she sees Danny.

“Glad you’re okay,” she says, sinking into a chair. “For the most part.”

“Fractured left acromion,” Danny tells her. “Fractured left scapula. Hairline fractures down my left humerus. Multiple lacerations to my right side; six stitches on my thigh, three on my waist. Multiple bruised ribs. Did I miss anything?”

She looks at him sympathetically.

“How’s Steve? Is he out of surgery yet?”

“Not yet,” Kono says. “But they should be done soon.”

“And the others?”

“Abby has a concussion and several bruised bones, but she’ll be fine. Lou’s just got a ton of cuts and stuff; he can probably go back to work tomorrow.”

“Good,” Danny mumbles, sinking deeper into his pillow. “I’m gonna close my eyes now, but promise me you’ll wake me up the second Steve’s out of surgery.”

Kono hems and haws, but ultimately promises Danny to do so.

Not long after, Danny wakes up to gentle shaking.

“Steve’s out.”

“Bring me to him,” Danny says, voice still thick with medically induced sleep. Kono nods and helps load Danny onto a wheelchair.

Steve’s just a few doors down from him, but Danny still thinks that it’s too far. He tells Kono that, and she promises to ask the staff if they’ll move the two of them into one room.

“How’s he?”

The nurse on duty gives Danny a soft smile.

“The Commander will be fine,” she says. “He has a concussion, two broken ribs, a handful of fractured bones, and some internal bleeding. We’ve got the bleeding sorted out, and we’ll be watching him like a hawk over the next 48 hours to monitor his concussion.”

“He’ll be fine,” Danny echoes. Kono squeezes his good shoulder.

 

 

 

  
40 hours crawl by, and Danny spends most of them half-asleep with his head pillowed on the edge of Steve’s bed. His ribs are screaming bloody murder by the end of it, but he refuses to move, glaring daggers at the nurses that try and convince him to lie in his own bed.

At some point, Danny wakes up to find that the hospital staff have managed to stuff his bed into Steve’s room, having finally accepted that the stubborn blond will not leave Steve’s bedside even if his life depended on it.

So he crawls into bed, groaning at the pain that blossoms across his bruised chest. His nurse clucks disapprovingly at him, but Danny doesn’t give her any attitude – she’s got a syringe full of morphine, and Danny really wants that relief.

He drifts off into a dreamless sleep, and the next time he wakes up, it’s to the feeling of a warm hand enveloping his. A bleary glance to his right tells him that Steve’s awake, and looking decently alert.

“Hey babe,” he says, only it comes out sounding like he’s grated his vocal chords over sandpaper a million times.

“Danno,” Steve replies. He blinks twice, eyelids heavy and slow. “You okay?”

“I’m a hell of a lot better than you are,” Danny tells him, squeezing Steve’s fingers. “How’re you feeling?”

“Like a building fell on top of me,” Steve mumbles, eyes fluttering shut. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

“Me too,” Danny whispers, and he spends the next hour or so watching as Steve slumbers, their fingers still twined together.

 

 

 

  
It takes almost a month and a half before they’re allowed to return to work – for desk duty.

This recovery period (compared to the one after North Korea) was significantly easier for Steve, because he had Danny holed up in his house with him, but it was a slice of hell for Danny himself. Steve’s need for constant movement had driven Danny close to his breaking point more than a few times, and when the doctor had finally approved their requests to return to work, Danny couldn’t have been happier. He’d do anything for Steve, really, but being stuck with him 24/7 while in pain really does take a toll on one’s psyche.

The team’s been working on finding Levy and Dahan, but they haven’t been able to make much progress without the help of Knott, who had been dealing with his own recuperation and the military side of things since his rescue. Knott, eternally grateful for the team’s sacrifice in getting him out alive, is more than willing to help them out, telling them as much as he possibly can without delving into classified material. It turns out that he was sent to Hawaii in order to discuss plans regarding starting simulations on a new fleet of attack submarines.

“I think they’re trying to get their hands on the technical plans for the subs. We haven’t approved it for mass production yet, but they’re pretty much finalized. There’s a prototype.”

“Did they manage to get their hands on the plans?”

“They have parts of it,” Knott says, looking horribly guilty. “I tried to take as much of the… torture as I could, but at one point –”

Danny takes one look at the number of stitches up and down Knott’s arms and waves a hand. “It’s not your fault, alright? You did good. You did your country proud.”

“We’re gonna need to know what else they have,” Steve adds, keeping his voice gentle. “Do you know anything about what they’re planning to do?”

“They weren’t speaking in English for most of the time I was conscious,” Knott says, “but I’m pretty sure I heard a couple of them mention Pearl Harbour. And something about the Russians.”

“And is the prototype at Pearl?”

“It is.”

Danny glances over at Steve – the man’s jaw is set tight, and there’s a glint to his eyes that tells Danny he’s not gonna like what’s about to come.

“I’m going to call the Governor,” Steve says, stepping away and into his office.

Sighing, Danny sinks down onto one of the chairs that Abby’s taken to placing near the smart table since their release from the hospital – because even when ordered to _stay away from the office_ , they’d still managed to find excuses to show up.

“How much do you wanna bet that he’s gonna find a way to lead the raid?”

“I don’t even want to be a part of that bet,” Lou snorts.

“Raid?” Knott asks, sounding a little alarmed.

“McGarrett can get a little overzealous when it comes to military-grade action,” Danny tells him. “He may be law enforcement now, but he’s definitely a SEAL at heart. Hell, he keeps grenades in his pockets and goes nowhere without that damned tac-light on his SIG. If something doesn’t need an infiltration plan, he’ll find a way to insert an infiltration plan. So you can bet your ass that there’s gonna be a raid.”

“...On Pearl?”

Danny simply nods. Chin shakes his head and goes back to fiddling with the smart table.

 

 

 

  
“Steven,” Danny tries, “could you _please_ let someone else lead this stupid raid?”

“No can do, Danno,” Steve says, fixing the straps on his tac vest. “Besides, I know you have my back, right?”

Danno exhales in frustration and lets his head bounce off the wall behind him.

Twenty minutes ago, cameras on the naval base picked up Levy and Dahan sneaking in, the pair making a beeline for where the submarine prototype is stored. Five-0 had been called in immediately, and the Navy had provided them with additional backup of five SEALs, all five called in from the Reserves. Chin’s leading the other team, and he’s got a SWAT team under his command.

“You’ve _just_ fully recovered from when a house collapsed on you,” Danny says, hands waving about in agitation. “And now you want to storm a naval base looking for two _very_ armed and _very_ dangerous Mossad agents? What the actual hell is wrong with you?”

Behind him, the SEALs exchange amused looks. Through the comms, Danny can hear Kono chuckling in his ear.

“Sir,” one of them says. Danny and Steve both turn to look at him. “It’s probably best if you listen to your partner. I’ve learned, over the course of thirteen years, to never argue with my wife when it comes to my wellbeing.

“We’ve got a while to go before we hit thirteen years,” Steve says, a lopsided grin spreading across his face.

Danny splutters, and Kono’s laughter bounces about inside his head.

“We’re _not_ married,” he informs the SEAL, before turning around and smacking Steve upside the head.

“Danno,” Steve says patronizingly. Danny holds up a finger.

“Don’t use that tone of voice with me,” he snaps. Steve sighs and adjusts his holster around his thigh. Grabbing one of Danny’s wrists, he drags him over to a corner and switches off his earpiece. Danny follows suit.

“I’ll be fine,” Steve says emphatically. “You’re here. You have my back.”

“I know you trust me with your life, but I’m not invincible, Steve. And neither are you. We both have a duty to return home to people who love us. This is a seriously dangerous mission, and you and I aren’t back at our best yet. I know you know that.”

“Danny. You’re right, but I also know that I can do this. Look, I promise I will make it back home, okay? Home to you, Grace, and Charlie.”

Danny pauses. “What?”

“What, what?”

“Me and what?”

“Well, yeah.” Steve tilts his head, looking genuinely confused. “Who else would I go home to?”

With that, he switches his comms back on and returns to the group of SEALs. Danny stares at his retreating back, having been rendered speechless for once in his life.

 

 

 

  
Of course it culminates in a firefight, Danny thinks despondently.

They’re chasing Dahan down Bravo Pier, and the guy’s unloading the clip in his automatic rifle like he’s in a race to see who can do it fastest. Under orders to take him in alive, Steve and the rest of the team can only take carefully aimed shots, in hopes that one will hurt just enough to stop the maniacal shooting. But even getting the chance to take a shot is harder than it looks – it’s hard to find cover on a naval base, because everything’s so spread out and so flat. Danny is so thankful for the fact that it’s 2:38 in the morning and the Harbour is void of any tourists.

Levy had disappeared elsewhere, with Chin’s team pursuing him. Kono’s been tasked to look for a vantage point, but she hasn’t had much luck due to the lack of high-rise buildings in the area.

“He’s turning onto Club Road,” Steve says, firing a shot that doesn’t hit flesh.

“Probably headed for Port Royal; there’s a speedboat idling at the end of the leftmost dock,” one of the SEALs reports, and Steve swears.

“We can’t let him get away.”

Seconds later, Danny sees the exact moment of one Steve’s (stupid) ideas pop into his head. He takes a shot – it sinks into Dahan’s calf, but the guy keeps running.

“Great shot, Danno,” Steve breathes, holstering his weapon and slowing to a stop. He gestures for the rest of the team to carry on. “Alright, here’s what’s going to happen. That shot will slow him down considerably, so I’m gonna go over to that dock over there –” he points, Danny looks, “– and I’m gonna swim over to the speedboat. Ambush him there, if he makes it.”

He starts stuffing his weapons and gear into a waterproof bag.

“... Are you out of your mind?”

“What?”

“No way in hell are you doing that alone,” Danny says.

“Sir, one of us can –”

“No,” Steve interrupts. “No, you guys stay on course.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

Steve blinks down at Danny. “What?”

“If you think I’m gonna let you out of my sight this soon after you almost bled out inside your stomach, you’re sorely mistaken, buddy. Now, I might not be able to swim as fast as you can, but I guarantee you I can keep up.”

With that, Danny tosses his rifle to the ground and shoves his handgun at Steve. “Put that in there too.”

Steve knows better than to argue with Danny, especially when the man’s got that glint in his eyes. So he packs Danny’s gun away, and they take off jogging towards the nearest dock.

“Kayan, you’re in charge of the ground team now,” Steve says. “Comms will go down underwater. Do not stop your pursuit of Dahan regardless of what happens.”

“Understood, sir.”

They make it to the end of the dock by the time Dahan’s staggering onto Seventh.

“It’s about a 300 metre swim,” Steve says, shedding his tac vest and shoes. “We should make it in under 4 minutes.”

Danny simply nods, toeing off his shoes. He takes off his shirt as well – the extra fabric will only serve to slow him down, and he needs to keep pace with Steve. Not wanting to waste precious time, Danny dives into the water first, clenching his teeth when the water swallows him whole.

He senses Steve entering the water behind him.

Steve catches up to him easily, of course, but Danny manages to remain only one or two feet behind Steve for the duration of their swim.

His fingers brush against the hull of the boat minutes later, and he breaks through the water’s surface to see Steve right beside him.

He holds the boat steady as Steve climbs in.

“I’m gonna get up on the dock,” he says. “Hide behind those crates.”

Steve lifts a pair of night vision binoculars to his eyes. “Yeah, okay. He’s about 200 metres away. Still firing.”

Danny heaves himself up onto the dock, catches his gun that Steve tosses at him, and settles down behind the crates. It only barely manages to cover him, and Danny really hopes that Dahan doesn’t choose to pepper the crates with dozens of bullets for the hell of it.

Soon enough, uneven footsteps start reverberating off the surface of the dock, and Danny looks down at his weapon to make sure the safety’s turned off. He can’t see Steve, and he assumes that the guy’s managed to tuck himself away somewhere on the boat.

He hears laboured breathing, and Dahan appears out of the corner of his eye, making a break for the boat. The automatic rifle bounces off his hip with every step, and the fabric around his bullet wound is soaked through with blood. Danny stays where he is, aware of the fact that Dahan may very well turn around with zero warning and place a bullet right between his eyes.

Dahan is one leg into the boat when he freezes.

“Step out of the boat,” Steve says, rising up to his full height. The moonlight bounces off the droplets of water still clinging to his hair and skin. “Slowly. Hands up where I can see them.”

Danny gets to his feet quietly as the SEALs approach and fall into position behind Danny.

Dahan steps out of the boat, but Danny can see the panic starting to set in, the set of the man’s shoulders getting stiffer with every passing second. He expects it, and when Dahan makes a move for the rifle hanging off his shoulder, Danny steps forward and pistol-whips the guy in the temple. Dahan collapses like a deck of cards.

Steve immediately moves to secure Dahan, binding his wrists and ankles together with zip ties before hauling him up and passing him over to two SEALs.

“Our plan turned out great, didn’t it?” Steve asks, grinning.

“It ruined my hair,” Danny says. “So no, it didn’t turn out great.”

“Aw, come on Danno,” Steve wheedles, reaching out to push a damp lock of hair out of Danny’s eyes. “Neither of us got shot!”

The remaining SEALs don’t even bother suppressing their laughter.

 

 

 

  
Kono’s never seen Danny shirtless before, so when she walks up to the rest of her team, she’s a little surprised. Sure, she’d known that Danny must be packing some serious heat under his dress shirts, judging from how they always seemed to be stretched to their limit across his shoulders and around his biceps. But it’s not really his musculature that catches her attention. It’s the mark resting just above his scapula that does.

At first glance, it seems like a jumble of white lines. But as Kono gets closer, she realizes that the lines work together to form a trident. Questions rush forward and threaten to spill through her lips, but she manages to hold them at bay. Danny’s never once mentioned his soulmark to anyone on the team, and Kono’s pretty sure the man will not appreciate it if she blurts it out unexpectedly.

Something about the design nags at her, however, and she takes a long look at it before Danny drapes a towel over his back and hides it from view.

She tunes back into the conversation, congratulates her teammates for getting both of their targets, and files Danny’s soulmark away in a part of her brain for later thought.

 

 

 

  
It’s a Saturday, and the whole team’s out having fun under the sun on Steve’s beach.

The sand is warm under Danny’s feet, and for once, he doesn’t mind it so much as he settles down a few feet away from Charlie. There’s a huge sand castle being built, Charlie laughing whenever his Uncle Chin ‘accidentally’ knocks over a mound of sand. Danny leans back on his hands and gazes out at the water, where Grace is attempting to out-swim Steve. He can barely make out Grace’s head, but he sees Steve’s lazily gliding through the water, each slow stroke intended for Grace to win.

A shadow falls over him, and he looks up to see Kono smiling down at him.

“Hey Jersey,” she says, flopping down next to him.

“Hey babe,” he replies, returning the smile with one of his own.

“It’s almost Christmas. What are your plans?”

“None, really. I get Charlie for Christmas this year, but Grace will be with her mother. I get to see her the day after though, there’s that. I might bring him to the mall, take a picture with him on Santa’s lap.”

“Not going to go back to Jersey?”

“Nah, it’s not worth going back there if Grace doesn’t come along too.”

“Don’t you miss the snow?”

“Oh I do,” Danny says, trailing his fingers through the sand. He feels the edge of a shell, and he fishes it out to give to his son. “I miss it nearly every day, what with the damned heat on this bloody island.”

“I’ve never experienced snow,” Kono remarks. “It looks really pretty.”

“It is,” Danny agrees. “Especially when you wake up on Christmas morning to see everything covered in a soft white. Have you seen pictures of snowflakes up close, Kono? Nothing beats the real thing, of course. Breathtaking. There’s nothing quite like it.”

Snowflakes.

Kono tries to fight down the grin that’s threatening to spread across her face. It seems as though her theory’s right on point.

“I can only imagine, Danny.”

They sit together in companionable silence until Grace rises from the water, seated on Steve’s shoulders. The pair slowly ambles back to shore.

“Danno!” Grace calls the second she’s within earshot. “Can I go surfing with Auntie Kono?”

“As long as you don’t go too far out into the water,” Danny says, smiling when Grace beams. Steve sets her down, large hands holding her securely until her feet touch the sand.

Kono springs to her feet and joins Grace, the two swinging their joined hands as they go to grab their boards. Steve disappears inside the house for a moment and returns with two chilled Longboards.

Their shoulders bump as Steve settles down into Kono’s recently vacated spot. Danny accepts a bottle, clinks necks with Steve, and takes a large gulp.

“Mary’s coming over for Christmas,” Steve says, propping his arms up on his knees.

Danny glances over at his partner. “Are you… prepared for that?”

Steve hasn’t seen Mary in over three years, and the last time they’d spoken on the phone was when Doris came back from the dead. Danny doesn’t know how that conversation went, but judging from the pinched look Steve had on his face when he hung up, he had assumed that it didn’t go too well.

“Honestly,” Steve sighs, “not really. But it’s Christmas, and I haven’t spent Christmas with her in a long time. I’m hoping it’ll go well. It’s just – I’m afraid she’ll ask for Mom.”

Since Doris’ abrupt departure a few months ago, Steve hasn’t heard from her since. The Wo Fat case has been put on the backburner, for they’ve been too busy to give it the attention it deserves. They have, however, found out that Wo Fat had escaped from the yakuza’s clutches, and Steve is willing to bet that Doris is out there tracking him down.

“Don’t worry about something that might not happen. Just enjoy your sister’s company,” Danny says, brushing a clump of sand off the underside of his thigh. He stares at his skin for a few seconds – is that a tan he’s developing?

“Yeah,” Steve says after a beat. “You’re right.”

“Of course I am,” Danny shrugs, taking another drink of his beer.

“Will you come?”

“Where?”

“Christmas dinner. I know you’ve got Charlie, but maybe you’d like to join us?”

“Are you asking for my benefit or for yours?”

“Both,” Steve shrugs.

Danny looks over at where Charlie’s setting a broken seashell on the top of one of his towers.

“Yeah, we’ll be there.”

 

 

 

  
Christmas Eve dinner is a raucous event, filled with laughter, roast turkey, spiked drinks – juice for Charlie –, too many Christmas cookies, and a boatload of presents. The team, including the rest of Lou’s family, are packed into Steve’s living room, warm and comfortable with the weight of food and drinks in their bellies and the company of their _ohana_.

At 8:15 p.m., Steve gets up from his armchair and tugs absently on the sleeves of his plaid shirt.

“Off to pick up Mary?”

Steve nods, and Danny reaches into his pocket for the keys to the Camaro. He tosses it over, the bundle arcing through the air before landing solidly in Steve’s palm. Steve raises an eyebrow, and Danny shrugs.

“It’s faster than your truck.”

A rare, soft smile slips onto Steve’s lips, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye.

“I’ll be back in an hour or so – I’d like you all to meet her.”

The team bids him goodbye cheerily, but Charlie’s too distracted with his new toy set to notice Steve’s departure. As Steve opens the door, Danny reminds him, for the millionth time, to not drive like a maniac. Steve leaves the house with a grin.

 

 

 

  
The night breeze is cool against his neck as Steve leans against the hood of the Camaro, waiting patiently for his sister to exit the airport. He lets his attention wander, eyes catching on the joy evident on the faces of reuniting individuals and the sorrow of those separating. There are bouquets of flowers – Steve’s got one in the car waiting for Mary – being traded off, stuffed animals in the clutches of sleepy children, and the ever-present luggages being towed behind their owners.

“Steve!”

At the sound of his name, Steve straightens and turns towards the voice he’d recognise anywhere. Mary’s face bobs into view through the crowd, and Steve feels happiness and trepidation wash over him.

The crowd parts a little more, and Steve freezes at what he sees.

Mary walks up to him, gives him a nervous smile, and jiggles the toddler in her arms.

“Steve, meet Joan. Joan, this is your Uncle Steve.”

Mary holds on to one of Joan’s little arms and waves it at Steve. A sudden ball of emotion threatens to clog Steve’s throat.

“Mary – you – what?”

“I adopted her,” Mary says, shifting Joan onto her other hip. “A few months ago. She’s been good for me.”

Steve studies his sister, notes the healthy flush to her cheeks, the sharpness of her eyes, and the lack of tension in her shoulders. “Yeah, I can tell. Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Mary shrugs, opening the door to the car and tossing her carry-on inside. She hands Steve her suitcase.

“I wanted to surprise you,” she says, watching as Steve loads her luggage into the car. “And I didn’t really know how to bring it up.”

Closing the trunk, Steve steps forward and holds out his hands. “Can I hold her?”

Joan fits into his arms nicely, and Steve can’t help but take a whiff of that scent that only belongs to babies.

“How old is she?”

“A year and a half,” Mary says, smiling at Joan when she looks up at her mother and gurgles.

“She’s beautiful, Mary.” Leaning over, Steve plants a kiss on Mary’s forehead. “Let’s go home, yeah? There are people waiting to meet you.”

 

 

 

  
Mary knows she’s not easy to deal with. She knows she was a troublemaker as a child, knows that she probably still is one. She also knows her brother more than he thinks she does, and she knows that she’s not dumb. Sure, she might not have done well in school, but that’s honestly because school was a big waste of time, and she hated every second of it.

So here’s the dilemma. Does she want to start a particular conversation with her brother – one that she’s pretty sure she’s right about – and risk having him shore up even more walls around her? She knows that she can be horribly blunt, and she knows that Steve sometimes doesn’t take blunt very well. Or at all.

Joan’s quiet in her arms, suckling at the bottle in her mouth, and Steve’s puttering about the kitchen making breakfast for the two of them. They have the whole of Christmas Day to themselves, and Mary has to admit that it’s nice to be back with her brother. She was a grand bitch to him as they were growing up, but she’s matured now, and it’s high time that they start making up for lost time.

“Steve,” she begins. “What’s that on your arm?”

“What?”

“Don’t play games with me, big brother.”

Steve cracks a few eggs into a pan.

“Why ask questions you already know the answer to?”

“Because I want to hear you say it.”

“It’s a soulmark, Mary.”

“See, that wasn’t so hard, now, was it?”

Steve huffs and gulps down a mouthful of buttered coffee.

“So who’s the lucky girl? Or guy?”

“No clue,” Steve answers, dumping a load of mushrooms and peppers into the pan.

“No clue?” She repeats in disbelief. “You’re telling me that, after the appearance of your soulmark, there’s no one you want to spend the rest of your life with.”

The set of Steve’s shoulders answers Mary’s question.

“No one,” Steve lies.

“Steve.”

“It’s complicated,” he says, dumping a huge omelette out of the pan and onto a plate. He grabs two forks from a drawer and turns around. “Very complicated, okay?”

He reaches out and thumbs Joan’s cheek. “Can we just have breakfast and talk about inane things?”

Mary knows when to back off. Accepting a fork, she follows Steve into the dining room and shovels a mouthful of eggs into her mouth. Steve looks relieved, and Mary wants to snort at how he thinks she’s letting this go so easily.

 

 

 

  
Charlie’s looking adorably confused as Joan crawls all over his toys, but Mary is too preoccupied with staring at Danny to try and get Joan to sit still.

“Danny,” she says, leaning back so that Steve can pour her more red wine. “Do you have a soulmark?”

Predictably, Danny chokes on a mouthful of food and Steve nearly drops the bottle of wine. Steve shoots her a _please stop talking_ look, but Mary smiles innocently at her brother and turns her attention back to a red-faced Danny.

“Uh,” he wheezes. “Why’re you asking?”

“I’m curious,” she says easily. “So? Do you?”

“Mary, that’s private, you can’t just –”

“Yeah, I do,” Danny says, eyes trained on his plate. Mary notices the death grip he has on his utensils.

“What is it?”

“ _Mary_.”

The tone of Steve’s voice has Mary swallowing. It’s been a while since he’s spoken to her like that, and she realises that she’s probably crossed a line. She falls silent, and Steve’s gaze lingers on her a second too long before he turns to Danny.

“Sorry about that,” he says. “She’s never been really good at –”

“It’s a trident,” Danny interrupts. Pressing his lips together, he prods at a piece of meat on his plate as he fumbles for more words. “On the back of my right shoulder.”

Something fills the air around the table, something charged that sets Mary’s skin tingling. She chances a glance at Steve, and isn’t surprised when she sees that he’s pale as a sheet underneath that Hawaiian tan.

“Danny –” His voice is hoarse, and it sends electricity tumbling down Danny’s spine.

“Later,” Danny mumbles. “Not now.”

Steve nods jerkily, and Mary returns to her food with wide eyes. She’d suspected it, of course, which is why she started this conversation in the first place. But she didn’t know it would end like this.


	4. Chapter 4

Mary disappears into her room not long after dinner with the pretense of putting Joan to bed.

Both men stay seated for minutes, fingers wrapped around the stems of their wine glasses and unable to look at each other.

“Danny,” Steve begins, “we should… talk about this.”

“I don’t particularly want to,” Danny sighs, pushing his fingers through his hair. The action dislodges a few strands, and they tumble down to frame Danny’s face. “But you’re gonna make me do it anyway, huh?”

Standing, Danny shoves his hands into his pockets and tilts his head towards the beach. They walk out just far enough for privacy, but close enough so that Danny can keep an eye on Charlie.

“Is it me?”

Danny blinks. “Wow. Uh, you don’t beat around the bush.”

Closing his eyes, Danny takes a deep breath and exhales. “Yeah, it’s you.” He gestures to Steve’s soulmark. “I uh, as a kid, I used to collect cut-outs of snowflakes. I’d doodle them all the time, and a lot of them would come out looking a little like that. Not as nicely drawn, of course, but.” He shrugs.

“You’re sure it’s me?”

Their gazes lock, and Steve nearly forgets how to breathe.

“I first touched you on your forearm,” Danny says softly, pointing to the mark. “Right there. When I wanted to get you on your feet in that truck. You reached for my shoulder to stabilize yourself. So yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“Can I… Can I see it?”

After a moment’s hesitation, Danny unbuttons his shirt and lets the fabric fall off his shoulders. Steve instantly notices a few scars, but their presence promptly fades away when he finally sets his eyes on Danny’s soulmark.

It’s big, almost the size of his hand. Mesmerized, he lifts a finger and traces the outline of his trident – Danny shivers under his touch.

“How long have you known?” He keeps his hand on Danny’s shoulder as Danny turns back around.

“Figured it out the day I saw your mark,” Danny says. “In the office.”

Steve huffs out an astonished laugh. “I wondered what that look on your face was.”

Danny offers him a pained smile.

“Why didn’t you tell me? It’s been a whole year, Danny.”

Sighing, Danny sinks down onto a chair and hastily does up a few buttons.

“In the beginning, I chose to keep it to myself because we were essentially strangers. If I were in your shoes, I would not want someone – someone I’d known for only a few days – come up to me and tell me I was his soulmate. After a while, when we had gotten closer and I started developing feelings for you, I chose not to say anything because I didn’t want to lose what we had. You’ve given me so many things, Steve. A family, a best friend, someone my kids can look up to. I didn’t want to risk losing you to some damn marks.”

“Danny,” Steve starts, sinking down onto his haunches in front of the other man.

“No, Steve. If I told you and we didn’t work out, I’d have lost so much. It wasn’t a risk I was willing to take. Soulmarks don’t guarantee a successful relationship, you know? It just means we’re compatible.”

“It means we’re meant for each other,” Steve corrects, reaching up to grab onto Danny’s wrist.

“Still doesn’t guarantee a successful relationship,” Danny points out. “And for god’s sakes, I don’t even know if you’re interested in men.”

“Do you want to know the day I realized I was in love with you?” Steve asks, his grip on Danny’s wrist tightening.

Danny doesn’t answer him, but Steve notices the subtle widening of his eyes.

“Your custody hearing. When you fixed my tie.”

“That was – that was nine months ago, Steven.”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs. “Been a while, I guess.”

Danny falls silent again, the crease between his eyebrows deepening with every passing second.

“I know you’re scared,” Steve says, “I know that your failed marriage has taken a toll on you. But we work, Danny. We understand each other and we know what each other needs. You’re always there for me, and I try so hard to always be there for you, too. I’ve never met someone whom I’ve clicked with this well before. I remember the first time you complained about missing snow, the day you waxed poetry about the beauty of snow – I spent the rest of that day _hoping_ you were the person behind my soulmark.”

He looks down at Danny’s hand in his. Slowly, he pushes his fingers between Danny’s, threads them together, and holds on tight. He doesn’t usually express this much of himself, to _anyone_ , so this much talking is a little overwhelming. Danny’s hand in his is grounding, however, and Steve soldiers on.

“I’m so thankful for our friendship, for your presence in my life, for your constant and unerring support. Look, I get that you don’t want to risk all of that, but I’m willing. I’ve been willing for so long, and I’ve always wondered if you felt the same way. If you’re that tactile with everyone or just me. If you smiled at others the way you always smile at me. If you’d have let anyone else commandeer your car the way I did. If you’d trust anyone else with Grace and Charlie as much as you trust me.”

“I wouldn’t,” Danny croaks. “It’s just you.”

His heart’s beating so fast that Steve’s pretty sure it would fall out of his chest cavity if it weren’t for his ribs.

“Yeah?”

“I – I fell for you at that custody hearing, too. When you spoke up for me,” Danny blurts. His free hand flaps awkwardly in the air. “You helped me keep the most important people in my life with me. That’s when I decided you should join them too.”

Danny blushes so hard at Steve’s responding smile that neither one is quite sure how to proceed.

“Look,” Danny finally says. “I can’t promise you that it’ll be smooth sailing.”

“Do I look like I expect life to be smooth sailing?”

“Well, you are always prepared for the worst,” Danny mutters. “Those goddamned grenades _everywhere_.”

“The best things are worth fighting for, Danno.”

“I think we should sleep on this.”

“Is that what you want?”

Leaning in, Danny presses their foreheads together and takes a deep breath.

“Yeah, Steve. It is.”

“Okay,” Steve replies, giving Danny’s hand a squeeze before letting go. “Take as much time as you want.”

Danny’s more than a little surprised – Steve’s always gone for what he wants, and the man never takes no for an answer. But Steve is willing to let Danny set the pace, willing to give up his preference for certainty, and that speaks volumes.

“Danno!” Charlie yells from inside the house, managing to startle them both. “Can we give Uncle Steve his present?”

“Sure thing, buddy,” Danny replies, getting up from his seat. He hears Charlie cheer and the sound of small feet pattering away on hardwood floors.

Before Steve can head back into the house, Danny pulls him into a hug, tucking his face into the curve of Steve’s neck. A strong hand comes up to cup the base of his head, and Danny allows himself a few seconds of this. Of just Steve.

 

 

 

  
In the weeks that follow, some things change, and yet some things stay exactly the same. It’s giving the rest of the team a little whiplash, to be quite honest. Danny doesn’t stop with his rants, Steve doesn’t stop doing outrageous action-movie-worthy stunts, and Steve doesn’t stop grinning whenever Danny complains under his breath about ‘stupid partners that have death wishes and want to bring me down with them’.

They’re still just as tactile, a touch to the elbow or a hand spread across the lower back. But now, those touches come with soft smiles, a lingering gaze or two, and some insanely charged air.

Kono’s the first to figure it out – well, she’d figured it out the day she saw Danny’s soulmark, but she finally gets the confirmation she’s been looking for.

She approaches Steve one afternoon, making her way towards his office while everyone else takes a crime-free day to catch up on paperwork. Danny himself is buried nose-deep in a stack, so Kono makes it to Steve’s without any curious glances.

“Bossman,” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Can I ask you something?”

“Shoot,” Steve says, peering at a sheet of paper that he fishes out of his printer.

“Are you and Danny together?”

Steve’s eyes flick up to Kono’s face.

“Why are you asking?”

“You guys are acting differently with each other. I don’t really know how to describe it, because it’s not something I can visibly point out. Besides, I’m pretty sure you’re each other’s soulmates.”

She points to Steve’s soulmark.

“You’ve seen Danny’s?”

Nodding, Kono flops down into a chair and absently itches at a bug bite on her ankle.

“Saw it after you guys caught Dahan. He was shirtless when I walked up behind him. It’s a damn trident, Boss. Doesn’t really take a genius to piece it together. And even if neither of you had soulmarks, I would’ve wagered that you guys would’ve ended up with each other anyway.”

Steve looks at her, eyebrows drawn together in confusion. She looks right back at him.

“What?”

“You’re dense,” she deadpans. “Why do you think people always assume you guys are married or whatnot? It’s just… something you two exude. You know what, whatever, that doesn’t even matter anymore. Are you guys together now?”

“No,” Steve sighs, dropping down onto his chair. “He wants some time to consider things.”

“But you’re each other’s soulmates.”

“Probably,” Steve says. “We haven’t… tested it.”

Kono sighs. “Boys.”

 

 

 

  
“Danno,” Grace says, not looking up from her math homework. “Are you okay?”

Danny’s frantic train of thought screeches to a halt.

“You’ve been walking back and forth for the past… six minutes,” Grace continues, still scratching away in her workbook. Danny winces. Is he really that obvious?

“Gracie,” Danny begins, stopping a few feet away from his daughter. “Monkey. Can I talk to you about something?”

“Yeah, Danno,” she says, sounding so grown-up that Danny has to take a few seconds to stare at his daughter and make sure she’s still twelve.

He settles into one of the chairs around the table, and Grace moves a few books out of the way so that her father can rest his elbows on the surface.

“Grace, do you know what soulmarks are?”

Schools are now required by law to teach their students about soulmates and soulmarks, but Danny doesn’t quite know how much Grace has been taught.

“A soulmark is a pattern that appears on your skin when you come into contact with your soulmate,” Grace readily recites. “They can only appear after you turn eighteen. If your soulmate is not close to you, the mark will fade in 48 hours.”

“You’re a smart girl, aren’t you?” At that, Grace grins. “So you know what a soulmate is too, I’m guessing?”

“Someone you’re meant to be with,” Grace answers, her math homework long banished into the back of her mind. “Someone that’s made for you.”

“Well, ‘made for you’ might be taking it a bit too far,” Danny says, a little flustered.

“You’re supposed to be with your soulmate for the rest of your life,” Grace presses. “Because you make each other happy. Right, Danno?”

Danny drags his bottom lip through his teeth. “Grace, you know that your mother was not my soulmate.”

“Yeah,” she says, looking confused. “You didn’t have a soulmark when you and Mommy got married. Mommy’s soulmate is Step-Stan. Her soulmark is a sky… sky…”

“Skyline,” Danny helps. “Yes, because Stan works in real estate.”

“Uh huh…” Grace frowns at her father. “Danno, what are you –”

“I have a soulmark now, Gracie.”

Grace’s beautiful eyes grow wide. “You do?!” She shrieks. “Can I see it?!”

Danny barely has time to wrestle his t-shirt off his head before Grace’s hands are all over his shoulder.

“You know what that is, Grace?”

“I’ve seen something like it before,” Grace says, her breath puffing against Danny’s skin. Danny can hear her little brain work. “It’s like a fork, but it only has three teeth. Oh! On Uncle Steve’s uniform! He wears a pin with it!”

“It’s called a trident,” Danny says, staring at Grace’s vacated seat. “And yes, Uncle Steve has a badge with a trident on it. Only SEALs get them when they graduate from BUD/S training.”

“Does Uncle Steve have a soulmark?”

Grace is still petting the mark. It’s surprisingly soothing, so Danny lets her continue.

“He does.”

“What is it?”

“A line of snowflakes around his arm.”

“Snowflakes?” Grace’s head pops around to stare at him. “Danno, you love snowflakes.”

“... Yeah, Monkey. I do.”

“Dad,” she says, and Danny takes a deep breath. Grace only ever addresses him by ‘dad’ if she has something important to say. “Is Uncle Steve your soulmate?”

“I think so, Gracie.”

There’s a pregnant pause where father and daughter simply stare at each other. The longer it takes for Grace to respond to the fact that her father’s soulmate is her Uncle Steve – _a man_ –, the faster Danny’s heart seems to beat.

At some point, Danny can’t take it anymore. He opens his mouth to say something, anything, but Grace promptly beats him to it. With a loud, high-pitched, scream of excitement.

“Is Uncle Steve gonna be my Step-Steve?!”

Grace has a death grip on his wrists, and Danny stares at his daughter in amazement.

“Gracie, you’re not… upset?”

The corners of her mouth turn down. “Why would I be upset? I love Uncle Steve! He takes me surfing, swimming, and to get shave ice. He buys me cute toys and books I want. He makes you happy, Danno. I think that’s the most important thing because I like seeing you happy. You’re happy even when you’re yelling at him.”

Danny gathers Grace into his arms and breathes her innocence in. She returns the hug, skinny arms winding tight around Danny’s neck, all that soft hair tickling every inch of Danny’s face.

“Danno loves you,” he mumbles, smiling when Grace hugs him even tighter.

“I love you too, Danno.”

When they part, Grace tilts her head curiously. “Does Uncle Steve know?”

“He knows.”

“Is he your boyfriend now?”

“Not yet, Monkey.” Danny tries his best to not flush at the thought of Steve being his boyfriend. “We’re still sorting some things out.”

“I hope he becomes your boyfriend soon,” Grace says seriously.

“... Me too, baby, me too.”

 

 

 

  
The thing about life, Danny realizes, is that it never really goes the way you want it to.

His head is throbbing, and his vision hazes out for a moment before he manages to get things back into focus. It’s dark, and he can’t see much apart from the outline of his own feet stretched out in front of him. The last thing he remembers is getting into his car on a particularly sunny Monday morning, feeling a mixture of apprehension and excitement as he prepares for his regular drive over to Steve’s to pick him up for work. He’d planned on telling Steve that he’s had enough time to figure things out, that he wants to be with Steve, that he wants to be happy.

Then, a sharp crack over his head had him out cold in seconds.

Pain splits down his temple, and Danny touches something wet and thick when he reaches up to press a palm against his head.

“Excellent,” he mutters, wiping the blood off on his pants. “Fucking great, actually.”

He waits until his eyes adjust to the darkness before attempting to get to his feet. It takes more effort than it should, and Danny has to lean against the wall to fight off a dizzy spell.

It’s a small room – approximately 30 feet by 30 feet –, with no windows, a single door, and a metal chair bolted to the floor. Danny tries the handle just for shits and giggles (and maybe because his claustrophobia is starting to spike and he wants out). He spies a pinprick of red light up in a corner and throws his middle finger up.

There’s absolutely nothing in the room that he can use to escape, so Danny sighs and slumps back down onto the floor. He closes his eyes in an attempt to block out the sight of the walls around him. Guess his confession will have to wait.

 

 

 

  
“Steve,” Chin says the second Steve walks into HQ. “We’ve put a trace on his phone, but it’s either turned off or the battery’s been taken out.”

“Traffic cams?”

“We found a black van that turned onto Danny’s street around the time he was taken, but it took a corner without any cameras for a couple of blocks and we lost it. I’m pretty sure they switched cars.”

Steve scrubs at his face with a hand.

“We have nothing,” he says hollowly. “Nothing.”

“We’ll find him, Steve,” Kono tries. “We’ve managed to solve cases with less –”

“No,” Steve interrupts, glaring down at his hands. “We’ve never solved a case with nothing to go off of, Kono. We have literally nothing – crime techs turned up with nothing at the scene, and we lost them on the street cams. Danny could be anywhere in the country by now, assuming he’s not dead.”

He slumps down against the smart table, all the fight taken out of him. For once, Chin doesn’t even move a muscle.

“God, what am I going to tell Grace and Charlie?”

“You’re gonna tell them that you’ll bring Danny home,” Lou says firmly. “And you’re gonna stick to that promise.”

“I don’t want to promise them something that I can’t…”

“Steve?” Abby interjects quietly. “Your phone is ringing. It’s an unknown number.”

Steve shoots Chin a look.

“Starting trace.”

Steve answers the call.

“McGarrett.”

“Hello, Steve.”

The phone nearly slips out of Steve’s hand.

“ _Wo Fat_?”

 

 

 

  
Apart from the few minutes before he heard the gunshot that signalled his father’s death, Steve has never felt so desperate in his life.

“Joe. Please. I need you to find her. It’s the only way —”

“If your mother doesn’t want to be found,” Joe says, “even I wouldn’t be able to find her.”

“Bullshit!” Steve snaps, barely holding back from yelling into the phone. Next to him, Kono’s fidgeting has gotten so bad that the lukewarm coffee in the mug on the table is starting to swish along with the bouncing of her leg.

“I know you know where she is. You’re her only means of obtaining information, especially since she’s gone rogue. The CIA’s not going to help her, only you will. So you will find a way to contact her, because if Danny dies, I will hold the both of you accountable. You tell my mother that if she lets the person I love die, if she chooses her own agendas over helping her son, that she will never, _ever_ , have a place in my life.”

Steve hangs up and cradles his face in his hands.

“He looks okay,” Kono offers, peering at the screen that has a video feed pulled up. On it, Danny’s pacing around the room, looking a just little rumpled but otherwise alright. Wo Fat had so very nicely provided them with a live feed.

“He’s claustrophobic,” Steve sighs, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Abby rubs at his shoulders, the movements of her hands and fingers trying their best to soothe his frayed nerves.

It’s hard, so hard, but Steve takes a deep breath and steels himself. He needs to think of this as another mission, needs to sort out the strategic, operational, and tactical aspects of it before executing the plan.

“I want someone to be watching the feed at all times,” he says, straightening. “Something has to happen; there has to be something we can use to figure out where he’s being held.”

“Of course,” Chin says. “We can even ask Duke to provide some additional manpower if we need it.”

“Yeah, good. I’m gonna… lean on Joe a little more.”

Wo Fat wants to speak with Steve’s mother in exchange for Danny’s release, and he has three days to deliver her.

Three days. 72 hours. Not enough time.

 

 

 

  
This sort of fear is mind numbing. It takes all the life out of you, and Steve is only able to make it through the day as a result of unceasingly sticking to his stringent routines over the course of two decades. He barely manages to keep any food down, his gut constantly churning in response to all the worst-case-scenarios that fill his mind’s eye.

He feels utterly useless. Not a single aspect of his military training could’ve prepared him for this. Having already gone through it once with his father, experiencing these myriad of feelings all over again simply brings back terrifying memories – Steve doesn’t ever want to see Danny in his father’s position, doesn’t want to be stuck in the same position he’d been in all those years ago.

The idea of losing Danny before getting him hurts – it hurts to breathe, to think, to compartmentalize. Steve’s always been great at compartmentalizing, but all he’s able to do now is wonder what life with Danny would be like. Would he give in to Danny’s love of sugary cereals and wind up scarfing down bowls of them together with the other man on a Saturday night? Would Danny finally be able to convince Steve to fix up the house? Would they paint the walls together, smear streaks of paint across each other’s faces? Would Steve manage to pull Danny into his arms for an impromptu slow dance around the bedroom while candlelight flickers in the night breeze? Would he get to watch Grace grow up and get married, Danny by his side as she says her vows?

The fear of losing so many possibilities eats him up inside, and tears inevitably slip down Steve’s cheeks. He doesn’t want to be strong, wants to curl up with a glass of bourbon and drown out the terror in his heart, but he knows that Danny’s out there, knows that Danny has faith in him – god, so much faith in him –, knows that if he doesn’t get Danny back, he’ll lose a piece of himself forever.

So he fills a mug with coffee instead, swipes at the drying tear tracks on his face, and heads back to the rest of his team.

 

 

 

  
The beatings start 24 hours after Danny’s abduction. During the time before that, he’d held onto the hope that his claustrophobia will be the worst of his worries. When two masked men walked in, one carrying a chair and the other a pack of zip ties, Danny had simply sighed.

He has suffered worse beatings at the hands of worse enemies, but it still hurt like a motherfucker. They’d propped him right in front of the camera — it didn’t take Danny long after that to figure out who the live feed is intended for — and proceeded to beat the shit out of him for twenty minutes.

Now, Danny sits against the wall, nursing a few bruised ribs and a very tender jaw. The cut on his lip has long since scabbed, but his head still throbs whenever he moves.

Miles away, Steve stands inches away from the screen, fingers curled up into fists that are itching for revenge.

“I’m going to give Joe another call,” he announces darkly. On screen, Danny grimaces as he shifts his weight around.

He’s stalking towards his office when the main doors open and Catherine strides in, looking strong and beautiful with every step.

“I’m here to help,” she calls. “There are very powerful people out there that owe me favours.”

Steve looks at her like she’s hope reincarnated.

“Chin called,” she says, walking up to Steve and squeezing his shoulder. “Anything I can do?”

“Y-yeah. Could you see if any of your contacts are able to determine my mother’s location?”

“...Doris?” Catherine blinks. “What do you mean?”

“My mother is alive,” Steve says. “Long story.”

Catherine raises her eyebrows. “Yeah, sounds like it would be. Alright, I’ll ask around, see if I have any leverage inside the CIA.” She pauses. “Hey. We’ll get him back, Steve.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” Steve mutters.

 

 

 

  
6 hours before the deadline, Steve jolts awake from a restless nap to the sound of knocking. He’s taken to sleeping in his office, unwilling to part with the live feed.

There are two figures standing by the main doors. By the time he’s out of his office, Chin is already waiting for him, trusty shotgun in hand. Kono nods at him and slots herself behind a pillar.

Steve unholsters his own weapon and inches towards the doors. It’s still dark out — he uses the lack of light to his advantage.

He’s got a hand on the door handle, Chin ready behind him, when a voice calls his name.

“Steve?”

Chin lowers his shotgun.

 

 

 

  
It doesn’t take much time after Doris McGarrett’s arrival in Hawaii before Wo Fat finds out.

“Hey!” Lou shouts, grabbing the attention of everyone in HQ. “He’s on the screen! Wo Fat!”

Steve can feel how bloodshot his eyes are with every open and close of his eyelids, but he simply tries to rub away the discomfort as he prepares himself for whatever he’s about to see.

There are two dark figures on the screen. One’s seated – Danny –, and one’s standing by his side, a gun trained on Danny’s head. Their faces are shrouded, but there are no doubts that Wo Fat is there.

“Doris McGarrett,” a voice says, staticky and distant. It’s definitely Wo Fat’s voice – Steve is able to recognise it no matter now distorted it may be. “You will meet me in one hour – directions will be sent to your phone. You will come by yourself, unarmed; if I see anyone tailing you, or if you’re wearing any wires, I will put a bullet into Williams’ head. I believe that’s a familiar scene for some?”

That image steals all the breath out of Steve’s lungs, and he struggles to breathe through the mental pictures of Danny’s blood splattered against a wall, body slumped limply in a chair, dead at the hands of Wo Fat, just like his old man.

Steve barely registers his mother moving towards the doors, but a frantic tap of Kono’s hand against his shoulder manages to bring him back to his senses.

“Mom,” he barks. “What are you doing?”

“I’m doing what Wo Fat wants,” she says, looking at him like he’s got a third eye. “Isn’t that why you’ve been looking for me?”

“Look, I want Danny back, yes, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to throw you to the dogs,” Steve says exasperatedly. “There are ways to keep an eye on you without Wo Fat noticing. We have state of the art equipment here, and Catherine’s got a bunch of people at her command who can do some creepy high-tech shit.”

He pauses, drags a hand over the stubble on his jaw. There’s a soft look on Doris’ face.

“You’re still my mother, despite everything that’s happened. You’re family. I’m not going to let anything happen to you, okay?”

At Doris’ nod, Steve turns back to his team, feeling a little more optimistic. “Alright, we don’t have a lot of time. We’re going to assume that Wo Fat isn’t going to let either of them live – we need to be prepared for an extraction as soon as we locate Danny. Let’s get started.”

 

 

 

  
The gag in his mouth is sucking up what little moisture remains, and Danny yearns for a drink of water. There’s a muzzle of a gun still pressed against his temple, and the zip ties around his wrists are digging painfully into the flesh. He’d been a little out of it when Wo Fat was speaking, but he remembers the gist of it. Wo Fat wants to trade him for Doris. God, he can’t imagine what Steve must be going through right now – he knows the man will never sacrifice one for the other, that he’ll do everything in his power to keep the remnants of his family together.

Danny also knows that there’s no chance in hell that Wo Fat will actually let him walk out of here alive, even if he manages to get his hands on Doris. He thinks of Grace, of Charlie, and feels despair course through his blood. His beautiful children; he only ever wants what’s best for them, and now they have to deal with the death of their father at the hands of a sadistic fucker. Danny closes his eyes. Life is fucking unfair sometimes.

Wo Fat had left the room approximately twenty minutes ago, with one of his goons taking his place behind the firearm. There isn’t much time left. Danny wishes he was able to tell the people he loves that he loves them. His children know – Danny never fails to remind them every day that they will always be loved. His parents and siblings know. But Steve? Fuck, Steve has no idea.

Steve doesn’t know how much. Doesn’t know that Danny will travel to the end of the world and back – dozens of times, over multiple lifetimes – just for him. Doesn’t know that Danny will always choose him, in any reality, just him. Doesn’t know that he’s managed to bury himself bone-deep into Danny’s life, filling every aspect of it, and that Danny loves how it keeps him grounded. Doesn’t know that sometimes, Danny looks at him like he’s a mirage in a desert, and Danny is the man thirsting for a cool drink.

Steve doesn’t know _shit_ , even though he’s a science nerd and has near encyclopaedic knowledge regarding what every firearm on the market is capable of doing. He doesn’t know what he means to Danny, and Danny really wants to be able to tell him that _yes, I want to be with you for the rest of my life. Will you be with me, too?_

 

 

 

  
Doris has a tracking device woven into her hair, a microphone – that only records and doesn’t transmit – tucked into the hair elastic that keeps her ponytail together. Apart from a ring that houses a spike long enough to pierce the jugular if she manages to get her fingers around someone’s throat, she’s unarmed.

Kono and Joe have left not long ago, the Governor managing to pull some strings and getting them access to one of the Navy’s Seahawks. Kono’s got her rifle, hungry for a killshot, and Steve isn’t going to deny the woman her prize.

Catherine and Chin stay back in HQ, which leaves Lou and Abby with Steve. They split up into three cars, taking care to switch cars – that HPD had left out for them – after every few blocks in order to throw off potential tails.

When Doris turns left onto a street, she realizes with a sinking heart where she’s headed. She’s been here once, many years ago, back before she first left the CIA – back when she’d killed Wo Fat’s mother.

Minutes later, as Doris shuts the car door and walks into the house, Chin dials Steve’s number, having found out the same bit of information.

“Steve. Wo Fat has Danny at his old family home. It’s been vacant for the past 15 years, and is still under his father’s name.”

Steve presses down on the accelerator, wishing Danny was right next to him and yelling his head off regarding Steve’s reckless driving.

 

 

 

  
Danny hears a door open. The man with the gun turns around, and if only the damned chair wasn’t bolted to the ground, he would be slamming the guy into a wall in the next few seconds. Alas, Danny can only sit and squirm in his seat as muted voices start seeping into the room.

Then, the door swings open, and in walks Wo Fat, with Doris McGarrett close behind.

“Mr. Williams,” Wo Fat says, gesturing for his goon to remove Danny’s gag. “Seems as though you’re important enough for Steve McGarrett to give up his mother for.”

“If really you think that,” Danny croaks, throat impossibly dry. “Then you clearly don’t know him as well as I do.”

A ghost of a smile passes across Doris’ face, and she shifts closer to him discreetly.

“I know him enough to know that killing you will be akin to killing him,” Wo Fat says, and Danny feels his blood turn cold.

“What, you’re gonna go back on your word? It’s not smart, you know, pissing McGarrett off. He’s got a lot of grenades in his pocket.” He tries for indifference, but he knows his voice isn’t as strong as he’d like.

Blood slowly trails down his hands from the open wounds on his wrists. Danny unfurls his stiff fingers and stretches them out.

“Hmm.” Wo Fat studies him for a moment before turning around. “I’m going to have a conversation with Doris. You’re free to have a few moments for some… last minute prayers.”

Danny finds himself alone in the room, staring at the closed door. The ring in his hands is slippery with blood and sweat, but he finally has hope again. It takes him a few tries to flip open the spike from the inside of the ring, but once he gets it, he sets to sawing through his zip ties.

Finally free, Danny gets up, shakes the ache out of his joints – fuck, he’s getting old – and creeps towards the door. Inching it open, he peers out and sees an empty room. There are voices nearby, and Danny recognises Wo Fat’s, but he can’t see him or Doris anywhere. Footsteps sound, and Danny immediately darts back to the chair, placing his arms behind him. He slips the ring onto his ring finger, the spike covered by his palm.

The first thing Danny sees is the gun in the goon’s hand. The second thing he sees is a chance to get out of here alive. He takes it.

 

 

 

  
“I don’t have a clean shot,” Kono yells over the humming of the Seahawk.

Steve’s parked less than a mile away, unwilling to go any closer just in case Wo Fat has eyes near the house and a bullet finds its way into Danny’s brain. He knows his mother is safe for now, at least while she still has all the answers that Wo Fat seeks.

“Five heat signals inside the house,” Catherine reports, “but there are too many pedestrians out on the street for me to figure out who are hostiles.”

“Yeah,” Steve exhales. “I can’t just sit in my truck and put all my faith in the chance that Kono gets a clean shot. I have to go out there.”

“But –”

“I can skirt around back. Climb up the cliff, use the trees to my advantage. I can’t just not do anything.”

He’s one foot out of the Silverado when a shot reverberates through the neighbourhood. His mind goes blank. Kono’s screaming his name through his earpiece, and he sees Abby sprinting towards the house with Lou hot on her heels. Another shot sounds.

_Danny._

He runs, his thigh holster digging into his flesh from when he’d tightened it too much. He doesn’t stop running even when he reaches the house, darting through the hallways until he catches sight of Lou’s hulking frame.

A part of him doesn’t even want to look at whatever’s going on in the room. He doesn’t want to see Danny’s body, that wonderful head of blond hair tainted with blood; doesn’t want to see his mother, to have to bury her a second time.

“Steve?”

But that voice – music to Steve’s ears.

“Danny?”

He blinks, and there’s Danny, swimming into view looking all sorts of roughed up, but alive.

“Hey, babe, oh god –”

Danny’s palms are tacky with drying blood, but they’re cupping Steve’s face and pulling him close.

“I’m okay,” Danny’s saying, those crystal blue eyes desperately trying to hold onto Steve’s gaze. “You see me? I’m okay. Your mother’s okay too – your mother saved me, Steve. Without her, I’d be dead. But I’m not, okay? I’m here. With you. Steve?”

“I love you,” Steve blurts. His voice is thick, watery, and hoarse all at the same time.

When Danny smiles, everything around him seems to fade away.

“I love you too, babe. You know that.”

“I mean it, Danny. I really do love you.”

“I know. I do too,” Danny replies, the teasing gone from his voice. “I’m so fucking happy I got the chance to tell you that. Grace – she’s happy about you; about us. Haven’t told Charlie yet, but what do you say we do it together, huh?”

“I’d like that,” Steve mumbles, dipping his head just so he can press their foreheads together.

Movement catches Steve’s eye, and he reluctantly pulls away from Danny’s solid presence to see Lou hauling a bloodied Wo Fat up to his feet. Danny turns to look as well, and his fingers dig a little deeper into the back of Steve’s head.

“I, uh, was gonna shoot him in the face,” Danny says bluntly, “but I figured that it should be you who decides what happens to him.”

When Wo Fat passes Steve, his face is a vision of calm. His gaze slides over to Steve, and they hold each other’s gazes for a heavy moment before Lou unceremoniously yanks him forward.

“I’m not going to kill him,” Steve says eventually. “But if someone in whatever prison he goes to decides to sink a sharpened toothbrush into his stomach… Well, you won’t hear any complaints from me.”

“Or me,” Danny adds. He drops his hands from Steve’s face and finds his wrists instead. He gets a soft smile in return when he swipes his thumb over the knobs of Steve’s wrists – it soothes him like iced water soothes the throat of a parched man.

“Steve,” Doris says carefully. She’s got a piece of ripped cloth – from Danny’s shirt – pressed to a gash on her forehead. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

It’s clear that Steve doesn’t want to leave Danny’s side, and the feeling is more than reciprocated, but Danny gently brushes his knuckles across Steve’s cheekbone and turns away.

 

 

 

  
Hospital lights are always irritatingly bright, and Steve loathes the ever-present smell of antiseptic that ends up clinging to his clothes. But Danny is here, getting patched up, which means that Steve will willingly stay in the damned hospital for the entire duration. Doris had left – again – after the EMTs stitched up the wound on her forehead, with a chaste kiss to Steve’s cheek and a promise to visit soon. Her awkward words of well-wishes regarding his future with Danny still lie heavily on his mind – she’s never been around for any of his girlfriends or boyfriends, so why does he want her approval so badly?

He’s shaken out of his thoughts when Charlie announces his arrival by madly sprinting into the waiting room, barrelling straight into Steve’s leg. Grace follows, a little more restrained, but the worry is still evident on her face. At the end of the hallway, Steve can make out the familiar shape of Rachel’s silhouette. It lingers for a minute before it disappears around a corner.

“Hey, little man,” Steve says, picking Charlie up and seating him on his lap. “Grace Face.”

“Hi, Uncle Steve,” Grace replies. “How’s Danno? Is he okay?”

“He’s okay.” Steve reaches out and smooths down a wayward strand of Grace’s hair. “A little bruised, but okay. He’s excited to see you guys.”

She presses closer to Steve’s side, and Steve feels a sudden surge of affection for Danny’s kids. They’re just as perfect as he is, and he really does love them as though they’re his own.

They wait for another twenty minutes or so, Charlie kept entertained by Steve’s phone and Grace by her own.

“Have you stolen my kids’ affections for yourself?”

“Danno!” Charlie shrieks, sliding off Steve’s lap and beelining for his dad. Grace follows, giving Danny a much gentler hug than Charlie had – she’s learned, over the last few years, that if Danny’s in the hospital, she needs to be gentle with him until he’s all better.

Danny kisses his kids on the crowns of their heads, gives Charlie a fiver to go grab himself a sneaky snack – if Rachel finds out, Danny will be on the receiving end of another ten minute rant on healthy eating –, and heads over to Steve.

“Steven,” Danny says, “would you like to join us for dinner?”

Before Steve can say yes, Grace paws at his forearm, her eyes wide with wonder as she stares at Steve’s soulmark. She turns around to give her father a look, one that Danny returns with a lopsided smile and a flush to his cheeks.

“Are you going to be my Step-Steve?” Grace asks seriously.

Steve, a little taken aback by the question, looks to Danny for guidance. Danny just arches an eyebrow.

“Don’t break my baby girl’s heart, Steven, or you and I are gonna have some problems.”

That sounds like permission to Steve, and he feels a grin slowly break across his face.

“Sure,” he says, pinching Grace’s cheek. “I’d be honoured to be your Step-Steve.”

 

 

 

  
After they drop the kids off at Rachel’s, Steve drives Danny back to his house. Danny doesn’t protest, but the drive back is much quieter than usual.

“You alright?” Steve asks, glancing over at his partner as they cruise down the road.

“Yeah, babe, just tired,” Danny replies, resting his head against the doorframe. “It’s been a rough couple of days.”

Locked up emotions threaten to break through the walls that Steve had erected over the past few days, and he tries to keep his focus on driving them home before they unavoidably surge forward.

When the Silverado slows to a stop outside Steve’s house, Danny gets out of the truck with a groan, aches starting to set in after the day’s activities. Steve is by his side in seconds, and Danny allows Steve to help him inside, where he’s deposited on the couch with a soft throw blanket over his lap.

“Water? Juice? No beers though, since you’re on painkillers and all.”

“Water is fine,” Danny mumbles, slumping deeper into the couch.

By the time Steve returns with a glass of water, Danny’s already half-asleep. Exhaustion weighs down his muscles, and his eyelids are struggling to stay lifted.

“Do you want to take a quick shower and go straight to bed? You look like you could sleep for a solid fifteen hours.”

Danny agrees, and Steve leads him upstairs to the bathroom, where he helps Danny rid himself of his bloodied and torn clothes. When Danny’s left only in his boxers, Steve sets a fresh towel and clean clothes down on the counter before he turns to leave.

“Wait,” Danny says, a hand around Steve’s bicep. “Will you stay? I want to talk to you, and I want to do it before I pass the fuck out. So while I shower, will you just sit here?”

“Yeah, Danno, of course.”

He averts his eyes when Danny shucks his last piece of clothing and steps into the shower. Settling down onto the closed lid of the toilet, he waits patiently for Danny to start talking.

“I’m sure you know,” Danny says through the rush of water, “that I have… qualms about long term relationships. I can be with someone for years, but never establish a connection that goes any deeper than surface attraction.” He pauses to rinse off a head of shampoo. “Sometimes, I’ve dated just to have companionship. The entire fiasco with Rachel – the ripping apart of my family, the uprooting of my life – god, everything was just a nightmare. The sheer possibility of experiencing all that again… I couldn’t do it. I was happy, not having a soulmark. I was free to _want_ to stay unattached. Then you, Steven, came along.”

Danny drops a bottle, swears, and Steve hears him set it back down on the shelf.

“You were so infuriating, you know that? Under any other circumstances, we would’ve clashed a lot more than we did in the beginning. Reckless, impulsive, stubborn – your stupidly big hero complex _and_ guilt complex didn’t help things either. But, my god, everything you hide underneath all that? You’re a battered soul, Steve, and I’ll never know how you manage to deal with everything you’ve been through, but you’re also so beautiful.”

Steve feels his heart stutter, and he’s glad for the brief interruption when Danny can’t seem to find the face wash.

“You’d drop anything and everything for your _ohana_ , you’re so wonderful to my children, and as much as you never listen to my complaints about your driving or your tendency to run into dangerous situations without backup, you would never do anything without taking my safety into consideration. You’ve lost so much, and yet you’re always willing to give.”

There’s a silence for a while, and Steve stays seated, listening to the shower run.

“You’re willing to give me everything, despite knowing how I feel about relationships. I could up and leave tomorrow – and I know that it’s a risk you’ve considered – and yet, despite that, you would still give me you.”

The shower shuts off, and Danny’s arm snakes out to grab the towel before he steps out. Steve gets an eyeful of bruises and stitched up lacerations, and he reaches out to touch. Danny lets him.

“I…” He frowns as his fingers pass over a particularly ugly bruise. “I have baggage, too. You’re not the only one, Danny. Being in the military, we’ve both been instructed to keep things buried. To always focus on the mission at hand, to never let personal feelings compromise a task. I love the Navy, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve lost so much of myself over the years of my service. I just… I just want to focus on myself sometimes, you know?”

He redirects his attention to another bruise blooming across Danny’s ribs.

“To be honest, I’ve always been okay with the fact that I might never meet my soulmate. Besides, I didn’t believe that there’s only one person out there that I am compatible with – I still don’t. I work well with independence; I function well by myself, with only my own troubles to deal with. But with you – Danny, I’d follow you to the ends of the earth.”

“Steven,” Danny starts. Steve shakes his head.

“I need you in my life, Danny. We don’t even have to be together romantically, but I just need you in my life. You’re my best friend, and in such a short time, you’ve become such a big part of me. I’m better with you.”

Steve barely has the time to take a breath when Danny leans down and presses their lips together. Almost instantly, their soulmarks burn, as if fire is fighting to break through the dermis. Danny inhales in shock, but Steve holds him through the wave of pain, the parting of his lips serving as a nice distraction. When Steve sucks gently on the swell of his bottom lip, Danny fucking _melts_ – not that he’ll ever admit it.

When they part, both men glance down at Steve’s mark. Danny touches it, and the glow it emits is bright enough to illuminate the hairs on Steve’s forearm.

“Is it… supposed to be that bright?”

“It gets less intense after a few weeks,” Danny murmurs, entranced by the happily glowing mark.

They stay like that, Steve on the toilet and Danny standing between his legs in nothing but a towel. When Danny shivers slightly, however, Steve springs into action. As Danny slips into his clothes – the legs of Steve’s sweatpants long enough to fully cover his feet –, Steve grabs the towel and rubs at Danny’s hair until it’s dry enough.

Ushering Danny to the bed, Steve tucks him in and stuffs enough pillows around him to ensure maximum comfort.

“I’m not made of glass, Steven,” Danny says, amused.

“You have a bruised rib,” Steve retorts. “Same thing.”

Danny chuckles, eyelids already starting to fall shut. “I love you, you goof.”

“I love you too, Danno.”

“Be here when I wake?”

“Never leaving,” Steve promises.

 

 

 

  
Danny comes back to work two weeks later, and his soulmark is still bright enough that it shines through his shirts. Steve fucking loves it, grinning broadly at Kono’s teases and when Lou purposefully slides on a pair of sunglasses whenever he’s standing behind Danny.

Their team takes the news with a lot more delight than expected, and the two men suffer through coos from the women and knowing looks from the men for the next month.

But it’s more than worth it. During the period of Danny’s recuperation, they’d essentially moved all of Danny’s belongings into Steve’s house. Steve doesn’t ask Danny to move in with him, and Danny doesn’t ask if Steve wants it. It just happens, and they’re both more than okay with it.

They’re okay with it because Steve gets to spend his nights with Danny out on his beach, cold Longboards in hand as their fingers tangle together and Danny fills the air with his prowess at storytelling (read: his usual rants). Danny gets to fall asleep with a warm, secure weight around, and he gets to wake up to _already brewed coffee_. They get to steal kisses from each other whenever they desire, and Danny finally gets to shamelessly ogle Steve when he rises out of the ocean after his morning swims looking like a fucking Greek god.

They’re okay with it because it’s just a little different from how life was before Mary’s intervention – the only thing that’s changed is the type of affection they show each other. It’s really not that big of an adjustment, honestly.

They tell Charlie the news as soon as Danny gets the kids again, and Charlie simply looks confused.

“Were you not already together?” He says, before shrugging and running off to play with the new bed Danny and Steve had set up in the spare room of Steve’s house.

“Well.”

Danny laughs at the look on Steve’s face. “Guess we were a little blind, huh?”

“That’s one way to put it,” Steve says mildly. The oven beeps, and he gets up to remove the chicken. Passing Grace along the way, he stops to press a kiss to the back of her head. She beams into her English homework, and Danny thinks that maybe, just maybe, this will all work out.

**Author's Note:**

> In case anyone is curious, [this](https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2Fc7%2F6e%2Fe6%2Fc76ee6e50d35c8b9fab1830a2a1d0072.jpg&h=ATOMqPNcrrSYpikVHfCR_tLWl4YWfUXr78Wr2IUoCKuGljvePZMhmTOSY-eB_rjyFMQ_f9fE7N_PuXpkFpkMhqlXhD67VVo4I8hpD4VtNDX-XkqS8CkyE38j9_5czNYOkWt5ETBwi4QSuzSOQsc) is what Steve's soulmark looks like, and [this](https://l.facebook.com/l.php?u=https%3A%2F%2Fi.pinimg.com%2Foriginals%2Fc5%2F69%2F21%2Fc56921017a4fed26ea3d19d7e13bdbef.jpg&h=ATOMqPNcrrSYpikVHfCR_tLWl4YWfUXr78Wr2IUoCKuGljvePZMhmTOSY-eB_rjyFMQ_f9fE7N_PuXpkFpkMhqlXhD67VVo4I8hpD4VtNDX-XkqS8CkyE38j9_5czNYOkWt5ETBwi4QSuzSOQsc) is Danny's!
> 
> Wew, I really didn't expect to write a 30k fic for my 'debut' into a fandom. But I did it! And yet there are more things in this universe that I wish to write. There are several filler scenes that I already have planned – probably for a 'snapshot'-esque fic. 
> 
> I hope this is good enough!! I've read through hundreds of amazing fics prior to actually picking up my courage to write for McDanno, so I certainly hope I did the pairing justice. :)
> 
> If you would like to talk to/get to know me, [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


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